Heartbreaker? Pfffsh
by Yuilhan
Summary: Hitoka Yachi's got one last thing to learn before she's a true manager. Kiyoko never told her it would be so awkward though.
1. Chrysalis

**DISCLAIMER:** _Haikyuu!_ belongs to Haruichi Furudate, Shueisha, and Production I.G. I'm just having some fun playing on their… volleyball court?

 **A/N [14/6/2018]**

Despite having loads of things I need to write (or start writing), I've grown distracted. I've also adopted many new volleyball sons. Yachi, to me, is an underrated and highly shippable character, and I've enjoyed reading through the few rare-pair fics out there on both FF and AO3. However, an idea hit me, and I wasn't able to leave it alone.

I'm not sure when the sign ups are for _Haikyuu!_ rare-pair week(s), so if anyone could let me know drop me a comment or PM. Also, this isn't Beta'd, so any mistakes lay with me.

Thanks for reading, and don't be afraid to let me know what you think!

* * *

 **Heartbreaker?** ** _Pfffsh…_**

* * *

 _Chrysalis_

* * *

"Hitoka-Chan?"

"Y-yes, Kiyoko-San," Yachi answered, nearly dropping the water bottles she carried in fright. Kiyoko generally only talked to her if there was a task she needed help with, or something that had escaped Yachi's attention, and Yachi was becoming pretty good at noticing when she was needed. Now was not one of those times though.

Being the manager of a boys' volleyball team was hard. Or well, it shouldn't be, but having Hinata, Kageyama, Nishinoya and Tanaka present increased the club's rowdiness tenfold. Yachi constantly felt as though she were being pulled from place to place without respite whenever the aforementioned's antics spiralled out of control, so being able to keep on top of things with simple observations made her life easier for the most part.

Not even Coach Ukai could wrangle them into a semblance of calm when they got too het up, and Kiyoko was only really effective on Nishinoya and Tanaka. Nipping excitement of disputes in the bud was a useful skill, especially if all one could do was watch out for a storm brewing on the horizon.

Looking up at Kiyoko with concern etched onto her features, Yachi tried her best not to tremble with anxiety as the senior eyed her. The chrome frame and sheening lenses of Kiyoko's glasses glinted briefly, catching the light as she tilted her head sweetly to the side.

Yachi felt herself stiffen. Then the elder manager smiled, and it took Yachi everything she had not to break into sobs at the beautiful expression.

"You're doing well," Kiyoko told her smoothly. "There isn't really much else left for me to teach you, though perhaps..."

Kiyoko trailed off, and Yachi's brows furrowed slightly; it was unlike the third year to forget anything, though that did not mean she wasn't infallible. Yachi watched intently as something seemed to flicker behind Kiyoko's eyes – a glimmer of emotion, which was quickly dissipated as Kiyoko made up her mind.

"Yes," she said, smiling lightly. "I think it's time. There's one last thing I must teach you, Hitoka-Chan. It's integral to the survival of this club, but I was unsure as to whether you were ready or not."

'For what?' Yachi wanted to ask, but her lips were clamped shut and white from the force of stopping her teeth from chattering.

"With the training camp coming soon, I think it's the best time for me to introduce you to the last part of your training. Then, and only then, can I leave the club in your hands," Kiyoko continued, nodding sagely and tucking her notebook under her arm. Suddenly, the elder manager straightened her back. Coach Ukai was calling her over. "We'll speak more later, but for now think about where you see yourself in a couple of years – or, ideally, who you _want_ to be, okay?"

"Y-yes," Yachi stuttered back, watching the third year practically float her way across the gym to Coach Ukai's side.

In truth, Yachi was a little envious of how effortlessly graceful Kiyoko Shimizu could be. From her silky black hair, her empowered figure, and her intelligence, to the little captivating beauty mark resting by her lips. Kiyoko _commanded_ people's attention.

Caught no longer by her 'Villager B' mentality, Yachi still had doubts about herself. She tried her best to be confident going about her tasks as the secondary manager, yet things still frightened Yachi half to death.

(Asahi was going to be a major part of that problem until he graduated. Or got a haircut.)

Kiyoko's words rattled about Yachi's head for the remainder of that day's practice. The squeak of volleyball shoes against the waxed wooden flooring, the swish of the net as Yamaguchi flubbed a serve, and the tapping of palms against the pliant surface of volleyballs, became a sort of white noise to accompany Hitoka Yachi's descent into a teenage crisis.

Where did she want to be in a couple of years? Was she always going to stutter her way through life? How did you stop stuttering and, well, grow a metaphorical pair?

Yachi supposed all she wanted was a modicum of the grace Kiyoko possessed. That would surely be enough to see her through the rest of her teenage years and perhaps even adulthood. For now, Hitoka Yachi was a chrysalis. She had been for some time, stuck perpetually between leaving caterpillar-hood and not quite being able to flourish in the spring. That was what she wanted – to be able to emerge as a beautiful butterfly and cast off her shyness. To be able to spread her wings and have people take notice, not just to blend into the foliage like she had been for most of her adolescence.

With a start, Yachi was pulled from her thoughts by the sharp shrill tone of Coach Ukai's whistle and an excited Hinata. The ginger-haired teen had bounded over and pulled his awaiting water bottle straight from the assistant manager's hands, chattering nonsensically about tosses and spikes with a vivacity that made Yachi's head spin.

It was time for Yachi to resume normal service, and she cursed herself for not having been paying attention. Hinata and Kageyama were easily satiated with fresh towels and water, the second years received these too – though out of the five of them, Nishinoya and Tanaka were the most difficult to pin down since they were chasing after Kiyoko – along with Daichi and Sugawara. Still ruffled from Daichi tousling her hair in thanks and Suga's angelic smile, Yachi made her way over to Asahi, quickly offered him a towel, and scuttled away.

The remaining two people, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, were the one's Yachi usually saved until last. Handing things over to them was like swallowing a particularly nasty-tasting brand of medicine. Tsukishima was off-putting at best (and terrifying at worst), so Yachi usually handed over his towel first before turning to Yamaguchi. The latter would smile coyly and scratch at his cheek with his index finger as he thanked her, and Yachi would feel the weight of constantly being overwhelmed by confident people lift from her shoulders.

Today, when Yamaguchi thanked her, Yachi dared to smile back.

When Yamaguchi stiffened and flushed in response, she tilted her head inquisitively. Yamaguchi uttered another thank you – meeker this time – and hurried off before Yachi could ask whether she'd done something wrong.

The feeling of eyes on her back made Yachi shiver, and she turned, noticing that Kiyoko was staring at her intently with the ghost of an appraising smile on her lips.

"Later," the elder manager mouthed, and Yachi nodded.

They had team practice to finish up after all.

* * *

"Thank you for waiting, Hitoka-Chan. I didn't anticipate Coach Ukai holding us for longer than usual," Kiyoko said apologetically, dipping her head. A wave of raven black hair sluiced from over the third years' shoulders, distracting Yachi with its bouncy movement and silken sheen.

Kiyoko was awaiting her response though and cleared her throat expectantly. "Oh- _uh_ , ah _,_ it's n-no trouble!" Yachi squeaked.

They were stood on the balcony walkway outside of the team's changing rooms. The boys were laughing and joshing about inside, having waited and allowed both of the managers to change out of their sports clothes beforehand. Yachi had hoped that maybe she was hearing Kiyoko's utterance wrong after she next spoke, considering the childish screams, thumps, and laughter being emitted from the room behind them.

"I wanted to say that there is one more element to being our club's manager – especially if you're to follow in my footsteps," Kiyoko clasped her hands together, resting them against her breast. "You must be sure though, Hitoka-Chan, that you're completely open to any changes that might occur during these lessons."

 _Change_ , Yachi thought, _will do me good. I'm not going to be an extra in my own life – I want to be a star, or, well, at least shine a little._

"I want t-to be Karasuno's manager," Yachi said surely, only a hint of a stutter disrupting her words. She'd handed in the form, she'd subjected herself to Kiyoko's training before – and the general madness involved with the boys. Yachi _could_ do this. She _would_ do this.

Yachi willed herself a spine of iron, stretching to look eagerly into Kiyoko's eyes. "I will do anything, Kiyoko-San!"

"Good," the elder manager replied.

The door to the changing room flung open, and out piled Karsuno's boys volleyball team.

"Ah! Ya-Chan! Did you wait for us?" Hinata beamed.

"I, uh, was j-just talking with Kiyoko-San, Hinata-Kun." Hinata seemed to deflate slightly with her admission, and Yachi wondered how someone Hinata's age could still be both wondrously optimistic yet childishly absorbed.

"Why would she wait for you, dumbass," Kageyama scoffed, and _oh_ , there the two went; ranting and raving at one another while they made their way home. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi soon followed, with a roll of their eyes and a cheeky grin respectively.

Nishinoya and Tanaka hung back, blocking Asahi's way from the stairs by hovering close to Kiyoko. The latter softly cleared her throat. "Maybe we should talk more on the way home, Hitoka-Chan? Or, if you'd like, we could discuss things in detail tomorrow?"

"'things'?" Daichi echoed quizzically, finally exiting the changing room with Sugawara not far behind, as per usual.

"Managerial things," Kiyoko clarified. "Hitoka-Chan is nearly there. I just have one last lesson to impart on her."

"Oh?" Sugawara crowed curiously. Truthfully, Yachi wished she knew what this lesson as going to be too.

Kiyoko's smile, though it appeared saccharine, was anything but. Nishinoya and Tanaka were rooted to the spot, enraptured by her expression. "That would be a secret."

"I-I wouldn't m-mind talking more on the… uh, way home," Yachi interjected, trying to diffuse the sudden tension. What were Daichi and Sugawara so worked up about? Surely there were some things that couldn't be taught from male members off the club, so what was so bad about it being a secret?

For all they knew (including Yachi) it could be the ancient art of concealing sanitary ware on your person whilst surrounded by copious number of teenage boys. A vital skill if you wanted to survive a following two years with nosy club members and their severe disrespect of personal space and boundaries.

Nishinoya and Tanaka, having finally lost interest in the conversation, moved on; poor Asahi was eventually allowed to pass by, trailing after the pair of second years. Sugawara and Daichi waited behind for the remaining second years to finish changing.

"Shall we go?" Kiyoko asked, leading the way down the stairs. Yachi stumbled after her.

Taking a deep (calming? not so much) breath, Yachi inquired as to what exactly Kiyoko's final lesson would entail.

"I wasn't always this confident, you understand," said Kiyoko. Her eyes were distant, scanning the vacant pavement and the quiet road as they left the school's front gate. "I was shy, reserved. My hair was cut short to my chin and my skin was awful. Daichi-San and Sugawara-San might not remember it as well, because there was a lost of pressure placed on them under the former Coach Ukai. But my predecessor imparted this lesson upon me, which I shall soon impart upon you."

That sounded awfully cryptic to Yachi, though a flame of kinship fizzled up inside of her at the thought of a less polished, extremely shy Kiyoko. Another part of Yachi hissed that Kiyoko's words probably weren't true, and the girl bit her lip agitatedly. She'd never heard Kiyoko talk to freely before, and it would be awfully rude of Yachi to just blurt out her doubts and denials of Kiyoko's past.

"Karasuno are known for the Little Giant, that is true. They are known around Tokyo for the rivalry between Nekoma High and ourselves. However–" here Kiyoko looked over her shoulder suspiciously; Daichi and Sugawara were hot on the two manager's heels, having locked up the gym and changing room for the night. The elder manager beckoned for Yachi to come closer before she continued. "There is another thing we are known for."

Yachi leant in, ears at the ready. "W-what is that, Kiyoko-San?"

"Our female managers." Kiyoko tucked stray locks of her hair behind her ears. "Picture this, Hitoka-Chan. Birds of prey are strange, underacknowledged and volatile creatures – but like with anything remotely dangerous, they hold a beauty. Crows, whether people like them or not, are beautiful and menacing birds."

The two girls were eking their way towards the store where Coach Ukai spent most of his time working behind the register, so they slowed their pace to avoid catching up to the rest of the team. Yachi could already hear Hinata's demands for more nikuman; an exasperated sigh dragging from her lips that Kiyoko acknowledged with a knowing giggle.

"You're already partway to understanding, which is incredible," she said. "Our team will impress everyone on the court with their prowess and ruthless plays, but they're not the most appealing bunch as they come from all backgrounds and walks of life."

Kiyoko looked to Yachi; the younger girl was hanging off of the elder's every word. "The task of beauty lies with us, the managers, to ensnare and beguile other teams into a false sense of security – though having Suga-San around for the past three years has helped me out tremendously."

"B-but wh-"

"Why? Or rather, how does it help them? Well, after all, if you're being distracted by a pretty bird then you're unlikely to catch on to her team scavenging away the oppositions points."

"I don't…" Yachi trailed off. "I don't think I understand still what you want to teach me."

Aware of Daichi and Sugawara's approach, Kiyoko hoped that her blurted words weren't overheard. "I'm going to teach you how to seduce, Hitoka-Chan. I'm going to show you how to take hearts but never break them. It is, if you can call it that, part of our job description, considering you can't really rely on Hinata for pre-game psychological warfare."

" _Oh_."

Yachi hoped that her face wasn't totally red.


	2. Concerned Parents Club

**Heartbreaker? _Pfffsh..._**

* * *

 _Concerned Parents Club_

* * *

"Is it just me," Daichi Sawamura mumbled, "Or does Shimizu look really cagey."

Both he and Kōshi Sugawara trailed behind the two girls, watching with unrestrained fascination as Kiyoko leant in towards the younger manager. The latter's face promptly burst into a vibrant flush as Kiyoko's nose nearly skimmer her own, and Daichi's stomach curled in concern.

"What exactly is she saying to her?" Daichi wondered, all manner of horrific thoughts racing to the forefront of his mind.

Sugawara shook his head, offering Karasuno's Captain a nonchalant shrug. "I couldn't tell you, but my general rule of thumb whenever girls and 'secrets' are involved is to stay completely out of it."

The Captain couldn't exactly deny that Sugawara's words were not wise. There were certain hard truths about the female body and behaviours that men were often better off not knowing – if only to spare the latter from embarrassment than from ignorance. Nonetheless, poor Yachi looked as though she were about to combust; her hands crinkled and relaxed into and from fists intermittently, and with each incredulous look to Kiyoko the girl's face would break into more bouts of flushing.

Similarly, Daichi noted, Kiyoko's face echoed Yachi's with a concerned dip of her brows and the taunt line of her lips.

"I know that Yachi-Chan is still skittish around us, but she hasn't been that flustered in a while," Daichi murmured, eyes narrowing as Kiyoko placed a hand on Yachi's shoulder to guide her over to the others standing outside of the Sakanoshita Store.

Yachi obliviously accepted the steaming nikuman that Yamaguchi placed into her hands, and bit into the bun distractedly. Kiyoko declined Nishinoya and Tanaka's attempts to woo her with food, and Daichi watched with rapt attention as she leant in close to Yachi's ear.

Whatever the elder manager whispered, it was enough to calm the younger's flushed skin and disrupt whatever troubling thoughts turned Yachi's eyes glassy. Whatever could do that in the first place? That was what Daichi Sawamura wanted to know.

'Girl Talk' was chaotic and something Daichi had no desire to understand. Suga was better with feelings and touchy-feely stuff, and Yui Michimiya was the only girl Daichi could ever say he'd struck up a rapport with outside of Shimizu. Therefore, there was no point in him barging into whatever was going down between their two managers and demanding an explanation; he'd only mess it up further.

"What else is there for Yachi-Chan to learn though?" He probed Suga, and the latter sighed. Daichi wasn't going to let this go so easily, not until he understood exactly what was going on.

"Maybe Kiyoko-San is just trying to make sure Yachi-Chan is prepared for the next year. It can't be easy to be around boys all the time, and Yachi will essentially be on her own until the time comes for her to find her own replacement," Suga answered, tilting his head inquisitively.

Again, Suga presented a valid point. However, something was niggling at Daichi. Something untraceable was happening right under his nose, and it didn't sit well with him. He was sure that whatever Shimizu was doing wasn't underhand or malicious, but it was enough to elicit a reaction from Yachi that the club hadn't seen since she was introduced at Kiyoko's successor.

They'd never actually seen Kiyoko Shimizu so alive before Hitoka Yachi joined Karasuno's Boys' Volleyball Club. While she was still reserved and diligent, there was a spring in Kiyoko's step, a warm glint in her eye, and a doting smile whenever Yachi was around. It was like Kiyoko Shimizu had become an entirely different person overnight. Those smiles of hers had become fonder, and lately – or rather, during that evening's practice – calculating; like the elder manager was sizing up her competition.

Could you call it competition? Yachi was cute (Daichi had eyes, of course), but visually Kiyoko was stunning. He could easily see why Nishinoya and Tanaka flocked towards her like pigeons drawn towards bird seed laid out in the park. Was Kiyoko finally exerting her dominance?

Daichi's mind, if one couldn't tell, was struggling to conceptualise what exactly could revert Yachi into her primitive 'Villager B' state.

Suga, noticing his friend's preoccupation, clapped Daichi on the back – sending the latter stumbling forwards from the force. "If you're so worried, you could always just ask."

Daich levelled Suga with a _look_. "You know how well that would end."

Remembering all of Michimiya and Daichi's stilted (read: extremely awkward) exchanges, Suga winced.

"See!" Daichi exclaimed.

"Ah, well then," Suga flashed the Captain a wry smile. "I could always ask?"

Daichi hoped his face could better convey his thanks than his exclamation of 'Would you?'.

* * *

Kiyoko leant close to Yachi's ear, murmuring a quick 'Don't worry about it' before she announced to the others that she was leaving. She was met with warm farewells, waves, and tired smiles. Yachi too, tried to muster up her own. Her lips betrayed her, wobbling unsurely.

"I'll speak to you more tomorrow, Hitoka-Chan," Kiyoko said finally, before bowing her head and taking her leave.

"A-ah! See you to… tomorrow, Kiyoko-San."

If she were honest with herself, Yachi wanted to leave also. She wanted to curl up into a tiny, mortified ball in her room and never emerge from that sanctum ever again. However, Hinata was clinging to her arm and demanding that she chat with him, so escape and reflection on today's traumatic events would have to wait.

What Kiyoko had to say sounded very much like an elaborate joke. Yachi couldn't quite wrap her head around it; her thoughts were scattered like a flock of startled birds and flapping senselessly about her mind.

How could someone as pretty and refined as Kiyoko Shimizu, Volleyball Club manager extraordinaire, ever have been as unpolished as Hitoka Yachi felt now. Yachi had made attempts to liven up her appearance; her hair was pale and choppily-yet-fashionably cut, compared to the deep, rich hues of her female classmates. She separated the golden strands into a jaunty ponytail at the side of her head and adorned it with a hairband decorated with stars for an extra hint of individuality.

Keeping your skin nice and spot free became an artform once you hit puberty but knowing that Kiyoko had struggled with skincare back in her first year just didn't sound true at all. Yachi had worked hard to keep her own skin fresh, and while she'd grown used to the routine it was sometimes more of a hassle than a spot-free blessing.

 _She'd probably been born without a blemish_ , Yachi's thoughts snarled jealously, though she immediately wished they hadn't. She watched Kiyoko's retreating back as she walked off in the direction of her home. _Why would I need to do what she said though?_

Seduction, if you were shy, was something that would never come easy to you. Again, like skin routines and mopping up your instable teenage personality, flirtation was something to be practiced with silly crushes and through consulting the latest manga. Yachi felt she was never bold enough to do anything like that at all, so why would Kiyoko say that she would teach her the ins and outs of seduction?

Kiyoko struck Yachi as someone who had never been shy in her life before – reserved, yes, but never shy. Kiyoko held about her a quiet sort of bravery; one that only emerged if necessary, or as a latent aspect of being majorly independent and as a bolster to her beauty.

Yachi still stuttered around her own family.

Could she really seduce someone?

(And what, exactly, did Kiyoko mean by 'seduction'? Yachi wasn't sure she liked where this was leading–)

Still, Yachi had sworn to her mother, Kiyoko, and even Coach Ukai that she would be a great manager for Karasuno. Going back on her words, despite Kiyoko's warnings that her final lesson might entail topics Yachi would not be entirely comfortable with, was futile and highly hypocritical of her earlier promises.

Yachi was fastidious in her decision to pull out all the stops. She'd do anything if it aided the success of the club.

A hand clapped down on Yachi's shoulder, and she jolted; Hinata's arm (linked with her own) was flung away from her body as Yachi barely smothered a frightened shriek.

"Ah, sorry," Daichi apologised. His contrite grin faded, "Has Shimizu-San already gone on ahead."

He seemed to mistake Yachi's dithering as a nod of affirmation. "That's a shame, Suga wanted to ask her something. Never mind, there's always tomorrow."

* * *

There was always tomorrow.

Suga let out a long-suffering sigh. He hadn't actually thought Daichi would take this so seriously. Suga had, nevertheless, offered to investigate the case surrounding a frightened Yachi – though he wasn't entirely sure why delving into semi-private business was so necessary.

He'd waited until the end of their practice, shooting out of the changing room before Daichi and the others and hurtling off around the school grounds to catch up with Kiyoko and Yachi. Why the two managers were dancing around each other and disappearing without the slightest bit of notice was a mystery, though with Daichi's stubborn interference Suga had a hunch he was going to discover why.

"Aa-ah! Kiyoko-San, Yachi-Chan, wait up!" Suga panted, feeling the strain of sore, overworked muscles begin to slow him down. Their practices weren't getting any easier, even if their current Coach Ukai wasn't as spartan as his predecessor.

Kiyoko raised her finely shaped eyebrows in a dainty display of annoyance. "How can we help you, Sugawara-San?"

Suga's breath was coming in puffs and pants, and the two girls waited for him to recover. "I was wondering if everything was alright between Yachi-Chan and yourself," he uttered sweetly. "Yachi-Chan just seemed a little off yesterday is all."

Yachi still looked a little off still, if Sugawara was being frank.

"Hitoka-Chan was just a little nervous after I told her about her final lesson, right?" Kiyoko turned to Yachi, hoping that her tone conveyed that she would very much like to keep 'Seduction 101' a secret from the boys indefinitely.

However, Yachi was more flustered with the appearance of Sugawara than Kiyoko had anticipated. Kiyoko had convinced the secondary manager to make an early dart with her; they had a few errands to run (Kiyoko needed items from the convenience store by her house, and a parcel she needed to collect) before they would sojourn back to Kiyoko's home for the Yachi's first lesson.

"I-I was Sugawara-San, se-sed- _argh_ , I c-can't even say it!"

Kiyoko wished she could place her head into her hands without drawing attention to herself. Yachi had been so rattled that she'd completely missed Kiyoko's warning.

"'Seh'?" Sugawara echoed, nervously glancing between both managers. An uncomfortable feeling had begun to twist his stomach into metaphorical knots. "What does that mean? 'Seh'?"

It sounded suspiciously like Kiyoko Shimizu was grinding her teeth together in irritation. Sugawara's eyes narrowed dangerously. Daichi had a right to be concerned after all; Kiyoko _was_ being cagey – the question was, was she forcing Yachi into something she felt uncomfortable with?

Kiyoko tilted her head, surveying him. Her eyes flicked questioningly to Yachi, who shrugged; "You said that Sugawara-San has hel… helped you out before, Kiyoko-San. C-could he know maybe?

"You have a good point, Hitoka-Chan." Kiyoko's smile was all thin-lips and bared teeth. Sugawara felt himself gulp instinctively. "I suppose Sugawara-San can be of help to us, if he doesn't mind accompanying us first before your lesson begins."

 _Daichi,_ Suga thought. _What the hell have you got me into?_

"Sure," he responded.

"Wonderful," came Kiyoko's reply. "Though I must warn you, whatever is discussed and taught between the three of us cannot leave my room or be shared beyond ourselves."

Sugawara wondered why there was such a need for heavy secrecy and inquired as such.

"This was a lesson handed down from my Senpai," Kiyoko answered. "She gave me strict instruction to pass down this lesson to my successor also, and that the knowledge was not to be known by anyone other than the club's manager. My Senpai had been taught this by her Senpai, and he by his Senpai."

"It's a tradition thing then," Sugawara hummed.

"Exactly," Kiyoko affirmed. Here gaze lowered. "Though I've already broken it by allowing you to be present. You must promise me, Sugawara-San, that you won't think less of Hitoka-Chan and I afterwards. We're only doing it for the sake of the club."

Daichi was only forcing Suga to be here for the sake of the club and its members, so he could understand why Kiyoko would want to go to such lengths. She was as much of a supportive figure in their ranks as Daichi, Coach Ukai, Takeda-Sensei, and even himself; someone to be depended on to gather useful data and extend a helping hand should anyone require one.

Daichi and Kiyoko were more similar than they thought, though they went about it with vastly different methods. Suga was pretty sure Daichi would physically fight anyone who threatened to harm their little volleyball family (with Tanaka there more than happy to help pummel someone), but Kiyoko would be lurking in the shadows to finish the offenders off once and for all.

"I promise," Sugawara said firmly, staring directly into Kiyoko's eyes. He offered the same promise to Yachi, who flushed and bowed her head in thanks.

"Great," Kiyoko hefted the straps of her school bag further up her shoulder. "Now I just need to get a few things and we can begin."


	3. Ultimate Sophistication

**Heartbreaker? Pfffsh...**

* * *

 _Ultimate Sophistication_

* * *

Kiyoko Shimizu's home was, unsurprisingly, what Kōshi Sugawara had expected - although Daichi had been filling his head with all sorts of nonsense that morning, all the way up until Kōshi had managed to corned Kiyoko and poor Yachi.

'Ruined castle', was one theme Daichi had presented to him. 'Strict traditionalist home' was another, including 'Personalised torture chamber' for Kiyoko's room that was in Daichi's mind, inevitably, hidden away by a series of shōji screens that were as bamboozling to traverse as it was to try and solve a Rubik's Cube while sleep deprived.

Kiyoko's home was anything but that, though the latter may be somewhat applicable. There were instruments of torture (makeup brushes and fountain pens) scattered on Kiyoko's dresser and desk respectively, and a pile of plushies of various sizes (previous victims) in the corner. Other than that, Kiyoko Shimizu's home was, well… _normal_.

A bona fide, two-up two-down newbuild in the middle of a quiet residential area. There was a gravel driveway out front, sturdy wooden gates around the property, and two potted plants by the front entrance. Kōshi had happily wiped his feet on the mat in the genkan and accepted a pair of visitor slippers that Kiyoko handed to both himself and her protégé.

Then she led them upstairs.

"I'll only be a few moments. Please excuse the slight mess, and make yourself at home," Kiyoko informed them, depositing her school bag by her dresser before politely bowing out of the room. Kōshi heard her light footsteps pad down the hallway and the stairs, not realising his breath was caught in his throat.

He placed his bag down beside Kiyoko's desk and stationed himself on the lush, fluffy rug splayed across the floor; crossing his legs and trying his best not to tap his fingers nervously against his knee. Yachi copied his motion – removing her blazer and compactly kneeling beside the mound of plush teddies.

This was absolutely absurd.

Yachi looked like she was having some kind of out of body experience. Kōshi was almost there himself.

The things he did for Daichi Sawamura.

Kōshi shook his head lightly. The ends of his silvered hair tickled the top of his ears, temples and forehead, and he raised his hands to groom the offending strands back behind his ears.

"This is exciting, right Yachi-Chan?" He asked, and the small blonde whimpered slightly.

She seemed to recover her nerve relatively fast, flashing him a watery smile in return. "I g-guess, Sugawara-San."

"Ah, you can just call me 'Suga'! Everyone does." Kōshi would try anything to get Yachi to stop trembling. Was she nervous, or did the prospect of Kiyoko's lesson frighten her that much? Or was she only reacting to something else – something completely irrational that Kōshi would obviously disregard?

(Like Daichi Sawamura, Kōshi Sugawara had no idea how the inner complexities of the female mind worked.)

"S-Suga-San, then," Yachi smiled warmly, and Kōshi felt a load lighten off his shoulders.

His body seized in anticipation as the slender, stalking footsteps returned – echoing up the stairwell and along the narrow hallway upstairs in Kiyoko's home. The aforementioned had reappeared, only now she carried with her a large serving tray.

Upon it was a china plate, decorated around the edges with a faint floral pattern and covered with a variety of snacks, two wine glasses filled generously with ice, a smaller tumbler – the sort used for child, which was also patterned similarly to plate and contained a smaller helping of ice cubes – and finally, the carton of grape juice Kiyoko had bought from a combini.

Kōshi had no idea what she'd done with the envelope they'd collected from the post office however.

With practiced ease, Kiyoko peeled open the carton and poured equal measures of the liquid into all three of the glasses. The ice within them crackled loudly though the silent room, setting the hairs on the back of Kōshi's neck on end.

"Uh…" He said inelegantly as Kiyoko wordlessly handed him one of the wine glasses.

"It seems strange," Kiyoko returned knowingly. Her eyes crinkled behind her glasses. She turned to hand Yachi the small floral beaker. "But I do prefer to drink my juice with more ceremony. I suppose I've got into the habit since my first year."

"Tradition again?" Kōshi quipped.

Kiyoko hummed, collecting her own glass and gesturing for them to help themselves to the snacks she had laid out. Yachi took a biscuit and quickly shoved it into her mouth, if only to try and occupy her nerves with something other than staring anxiously around Kiyoko's room.

"Yes, though you have to admit everything is more sophisticated this way." Her face was smug as she swirled the ice around her drink, languidly taking a tiny sip from the glass. Kōshi had to agree that it did look pretty cool – and that had nothing to do with the ice.

 _Oh no, Daichi was right,_ Kōshi lamented with a tentative swig of juice. _This_ is _going to be something weird –_

Kiyoko licked at a stray drop of grape juice on her lips, and Kōshi swallowed harshly; a whine dying in his throat.

After a few more minutes of awkwardly silent contemplation, internal panicking, ice swirling, snacking, and the occasional nervous squeak from Yachi's side of the room, Kiyoko finally cleared her throat. She placed down her glass and reached for her school bag; unlatching the fixing and delving inside, only to withdraw a single, sealed white envelop which crinkled – bubble wrap, evidently, protecting whatever lay within it. It was the same one Yachi and Kōshi had gone with her to collect.

"May we begin?" Kiyoko asked of a shaken Kōshi and a chipmunk-cheeked Yachi (she'd yet to stop stress eating). The two nodded in acquiescence.

With great care, Kiyoko ran her manicured nails under the flap of the padded envelope – peeling it up slowly. Her fingers dipped inside, pulling out three small rectangular cards that glistened faintly when the coming from her bedroom window hit them.

Kiyoko made a fantastic display of placing each of these cards face-down on the rug, making sure to obscure whatever lay on the other side from both Yachi and Kōshi's view.

"This is a lesson passed down between the managers of the Karasuno Boys' Volleyball Club – regardless of gender, or age," Kiyoko began. "We are mature enough from the confidence we hold in our managerial abilities that this lesson becomes more of a formality; and it is necessary in order for the club's success-"

Kōshi was sure he'd never heard Kiyoko Shimizu talk so much before in his life, and while he was loathe to interrupt her when she was on such a roll, Kōshi had a burning question he just had to ask. "What exactly do you mean by that? And, well, why haven't Daichi or I been notified of this before if it's so integral?"

Kiyoko didn't exactly voice her opinion on him interrupting her, but her face displayed a little irritation. "It is integral because you – the players – cannot help in this way."

"What way?"

Kiyoko was grinding her teeth again.

"W-we, uh," Yachi blurted. "We – the m-managers – uh, Kiyoko-San told me that, ah-"

"Deep breath, Hitoka-Chan," Kiyoko encouraged.

"Kiyoko-San t-told me yesterday that all o-of you out on the c-court are displaying the, ah, power of crows…" Kōshi's eyebrows rose. "B-but the managers are the ones to um, show the dangerous b-b-beauty of them."

"Right," Kōshi said flatly, eying Kiyoko. The latter took an elegant sip from her wine glass. "So, what? Kiyoko's going to teach you to seduce other volleyball teams?"

As Yachi barely contained her shriek, lips clamping together, Kōshi's own mouth popped open in realisation. "Oh my gosh, you actually _are_. 'Seh'! How could I not _realise_ what that meant-"

"Sugawara-San, _enough_ ," Kiyoko intoned disapprovingly. Yachi was attempting to become one with the towering pile of stuffed animals in the corner. "Yes, I will be teaching Hitoka-Chan how to flirt and be appealing to boys – and girls. Will it harm her in any way? No. In fact, I could say it would do her confidence a world of good."

"And say I actually agree to let you-"

Kiyoko's eyes flashed with anger. " _You_ do not get a say in this Sugawara-San. Only myself and Hitoka-Chan are necessary in this exchange of knowledge. Lord knows you don't need any help from me."

"What exactly are you insinuating-"

"Suga-San is r-really good looking," Yachi exclaimed, swiftly clapping her hands over her mouth instantaneously.

"Oh."

Kiyoko bowed her head. "'Oh', indeed. That was a great start, Hitoka-Chan. It seems you're a natural at saying the right thing."

Kōshi's mind felt as though it were thinking in hyper-speed. Did their opponents really find him distracting(ly attractive)? What about Karasuno's team – or, heaven forbid, _Daichi_?

('Why would Daichi in particular care?', a part of Kōshi's brain screamed.)

"This was why we agreed to have you here sitting in on these lessons, Sugawara-San," Kiyoko acknowledged, uncannily confirming Kōshi's thoughts. "You've proven to be a distracting and supportive asset to the team, much like myself. It would only be fair to Hitoka-Chan to have both a female and male insight, considering I did not have that luxury myself when I underwent my training."

"I think," Kōshi said with a wry twist of his lips, "That after all we've been through in the last ten minutes, you can start calling me Kōshi."

He took a large gulp of his juice – almost choking as a chunk of ice hit the back of his mouth – whilst the two girls agreed to do as he instructed. Yachi, feeling a little bolder, scooted across the carpet to sit beside him.

"Did you really n-not know how people see you, Kōshi-San?" She asked, tilting her head cutely. Her tiny side-ponytail bobbed with the movement.

"Honestly, I had no idea." He really didn't. Today had been one hell of an eye-opener, and if Yachi and Kiyoko were going to weaponize their looks and personalities, then there was nothing against Kōshi doing the same with himself.

"I think, with everything said and done, it is time for me explain what exactly Hitoka-Chan must do in preparation for me leaving." Kiyoko adjusted her glasses further up the bridge of her nose. "Not only am I expecting you to work on your confidence, Hitoka-Chan, but I also wish for you to start building on a solid aesthetic for yourself. You've made a start, but it will be down to you to formalise your appearance. I'm not very experienced with anything else but 'austere', and 'cold' beauty, you see."

Yachi had a quick think, noting that Kiyoko held herself with the same grace and demeanour of an exquisite porcelain doll. Yachi was completely different; her emotions were rampant, her own personal style of stars and flashy colours were too eye catching in comparison to Kiyoko's more mature, muted hues.

"I think I un-understand, erm, about the style thing." But for her appearance to keep abreast her personality, Yachi would have to work on not being such a scaredy-cat. After all, she was a part of a fearsome team of crows – it was only natural for her to be the same.

Kiyoko dipped her head, eying the three cards which had almost been forgotten on the rug. "This next part is what you may not feel exactly comfortable with, but please know in advance that I too had to undergo these trials."

Kiyoko flipped over the cards, which were, in fact, polaroid pictures. Kōshi could already identify two of the three faces staring up at him from the photographs. They'd been in sports magazines recently, and it was likely most of Miyagi prefecture – if not the rest of Japan – had seen them too.

"Kiyoko-San, did you _buy_ these?" He exclaimed incredulously, pointing to the photographs. "These are _personalised_."

"You'd be surprised with what you can do on the internet these days, Kōshi-San."

 _Scary_ , thought Kōshi, reaching for a snack off of the plate with trembling fingers.

"As I was saying, my senpai assigned me three 'targets' so to speak," Kiyoko waved her hand over the polaroid pictures. "If you can steal the heart of an idiot, a serial flirt, and one with a heart of stone, then you can captivate anyone's attention."

Kiyoko counted the three off on her fingers with an air of cold indifference. Kōshi had chills running down his spine.

"Why not anyone from our school, or the team?" Kōshi asked.

"Would you prefer I had, and then if there's any backlash have it disrupt the team's dynamics?" Kiyoko's eyebrows rose over the top her glasses, reminding Kōshi very much of a haughty librarian.

Kōshi's index finger was already raised as though he were about to make a point, but with a frown his hand dropped back to his side. "I guess not. I just thought that Hinata would fit the bill of 'idiot'."

Yachi had scooped the three photographs into her palm and flicked between them indulgently; her eyes mapping the faces of her targets. Beneath each photo in the large blank space where one was encouraged to write a caption, read three pre-printed messages.

 _Idiot._

 _Flirt._

 _Boulder._

"I had thought about that," Kiyoko admitted. She sighed. "Knowing how Hinata bounces back from any kind of upset, I was tempted… but I promised my senpai that I would outsource targets for my own successor. It's less messy in the long run."

"Well then," Kōshi clapped his hands together. "Do you think you're up the job, Hitoka-Chan?"

Yachi failed to answer. She was, instead, staring at the photograph labelled 'Boulder' with a thinly veiled look of terror.

* * *

"So, what did Shimizu want with Yachi-Chan?" Daichi demanded of Kōshi the nest morning as the latter walked with him to morning practice.

Kōshi hesitated momentarily, though Daichi didn't seem to notice. "Yachi-Chan approached her for confidence boosting lessons, Daichi."

"'confidence boosting lessons'? You're sure?"

"Mm. Totally."


	4. Pout

**Heartbreaker? _Pfffsh..._**

* * *

 **Pout**

* * *

It wasn't that Kiyoko's assigned targets worried Hitoka – actually, no, _Boulder_ terrified her to the core – it was the act of getting any where near them, let alone flirting, that sent her into a panic.

Kiyoko had suggested she refine her image a little, or maybe even make up a character for herself to grow into, but Hitoka couldn't help but feel that it would be too obvious if she suddenly stopped shying away from every tiny thing that startled her. Hitoka knew what kind of person she was, and therein wanted to be. Discovering that Kiyoko had facets and faces outside of those she displayed at the club's practices was a little disconcerting.

It made Hitoka feel as though she didn't really know Kiyoko Shimizu at all.

Kōshi had also been someone Hitoka felt she knew a little better after they'd left Kiyoko's house. The third year had walked her to her bus stop, genially talking to fill in the gaps between Hitoka's nervously stilted chatter. She knew that Kōshi had always been pleasant and welcoming to talk to, but Hitoka had never realised how kind and perceptive the silver-haired teen was before then.

There was something refreshing about just simply talking to Kōshi Sugawara – as though he could smile your troubles away and send affection coursing through you with a simple ruffle of your hair.

( _And_ he kept eying her tiny side-ponytail like it was a cute puppy he wished to pet. The side-ponytail was staying then, Hitoka decided.)

Now there was just the issue of how she was going to make herself confident.

Hitoka had talked with her mother a few years back, when menstruation was a new and anxiety inducing issue – as were boys – and most of the girls in Hitoka's middle school classes began applying makeup or caring more about their looks. Her mother had taken her aside and said that excessive primping wasn't exactly necessary, and that it was fine if Hitoka chose not to do anything like that at all.

True beauty lay in your behaviour and actions, not the dewy sheen of your skin or if you had charming doe eyes.

There was, however, the mater of a large cosmetic bag which Hitoka knew her mother kept on the dresser inside the master bedroom, that completely contradicted her mother's wise words.

It was filled to the brim with anti-aging creams, specific products to help reduce faint lines and tired splotches that appeared on mature skin, pigmented eyeshadows, mascara brands specifically targeted towards lengthening and thickening lashes, and tube upon tube of brightly coloured lipsticks.

Hitoka had asked her mother why all of these things were necessary to apply to her face.

Her mother replied honestly that wearing makeup felt similar to wearing a mask. That the bulk of the products helped to accentuate parts of her body that were tired, or that often went unnoticed; masking elements that were less than appealing, such as the faint smattering of freckles that gathered by the corner of her eyes and a set of eyebrows that were too thin from over-plucking back in the eighties.

She felt better with it applied, Hitoka's mother continued. Not always – not in the safe confines of her home – only in the streets and her office, and most importantly whenever she had a business meeting. That was what the expensive tube of red lipstick was for – making herself appear fearsome to potential clients.

What other businesswoman would be brazen enough to wear a colour so bold? After all, if Hitoka's mother could take such liberties with her appearance, then the company she ran must be successful. At least, that's what all the clients who approached her mother's business must have felt – the poor woman was never still for all the paperwork she brought home.

Maybe the answer lay with makeup then? Creating a mask to wear that didn't altogether impede on Hitoka's personality. Just a little something to gloss over the cracks and her nervous stuttering.

It wasn't like she really needed makeup. Hitoka kept her skin clear and hydrated, though in times of stress or during a nasty breakout she was known to withdraw a tube of concealer to help wipe away the evidence of flaws on her skin. Her eyelashes (thanks to her father's genes, she was sure) were long and luscious, her cheeks naturally rosy, and her mouth pleasantly flushed. There was no need for foundation, mascara or blush in Hitoka's life when they were present without artificial interference (and constant crippling shyness).

Still, maybe she could wield lipstick to her advantage – make it a matrilineal tradition in the Yachi line or something?

 _Tradition, tradition_. This was what had dumped Hitoka into this nightmare in the first place. 'It's all for the club' was what she kept telling herself before persevering. The three polaroids were a heavy weight in her backpack.

Saturday's morning practice had passed by without any major incidents. Kageyama and Hinata were goading each other like two overzealous children in a playground, Tsukishima leered over them like the pair were a favourite daytime drama he obsessively viewed, and Daichi kept looking between Hitoka and Kiyoko with muted suspicion.

Kōshi had been there to distract Karasuno's Captain (sunny smiles and angelic dimples dazzling Daichi during their breaks), and Kiyoko had mainly kept to herself taking notes for Coach Ukai. Hitoka her kept herself busy too; flitting distractedly between the players, offering towels, water bottles, and meek smiles of encouragement.

She was so distracted by her thoughts that she was completely disordered from her usual routine; handing Tsukishima and Yamaguchi their towels and water as they passed by, rather than rotating around the gym to each player as she usually did. She missed Yamaguchi's stark look of concern.

Daichi watched her with narrowed eyes, mopping at the sweat on the back of his neck with the towel Hitoka had offered him before the blonde manager passed by to get to Asahi.

"You told me it was confidence lessons," he stated accusingly.

"They were," Kōshi replied, the corners of his mouth drooping. "Hitoka-Chan is still very shy, so she's probably just trying to figure out a way of being confident – but by being safe about it."

Daichi's eyebrows rose at Kōshi's familiar use of Hitoka's name. In response, Kōshi merely smiled. "Part of her gaining confidence was to be more assertive and friendly. Kiyoko-San and I both suggested she use our first names to do this, and we in return should use hers."

That… that actually checked out. Daichi hummed noncommittedly and took another sip from his water bottle. "Why doesn't she feel safe enough to be confident then?"

"I guess it's a case of mind over matter," Kōshi explained. "We know that she's safe here at the club – Nishinoya and Tanaka would rather die before anything happened to Kiyoko-San's protégé – and we also know that she has the ability to be confident."

"Right…?" Daichi drawled.

"But Hitoka-Chan doesn't know that. She does enough with her appearance to put up a front, but that's all. There's no real self-belief behind her actions, because she's scared as to what people might think – or possibly, because she's afraid she's doing everything wrong."

A few moments passed while Daichi thought over Kōshi's words. "People are like that, huh?"

Kōshi's eyes crinkled as he smiled, "Mm, but that's why Hitoka-Chan wanted help. She just needs a little push in the right direction."

 _Three directions, in fact,_ Kōshi's traitorous mind whispered.

Daichi, amazingly, seemed satisfied with this answer, and agreed to lay off Kiyoko about Hitoka's weird behaviour.

* * *

With practice over for the day, Hitoka excused herself ahead of the boys; not even bothering to change out of her gym uniform. It needed washing, and there was no point in sullying her school clothes again after her mother had put them in the wash the night before.

Also, her running shoes were more practical than her school loafers as she bolted to and from the nearest convenience store.

While the surrounding residential areas near Karasuno had their own go-to places for shopping and at least one main shopping street and major supermarket that people flocked to, the only legitimate place to purchase high-brow cosmetics was either in Sendai or by taking a chance on the internet.

Hitoka felt a berk doing either of the latter, and instead had chosen to pool her allowance (gathered in her purse by skipping on buying a drink from the school vending machines for the last three days) and darting into the nearest combini for a cheap lipstick.

These stores held almost everything within them; emergency medication, toiletries, snacks, full-scale meals – even cosmetics. They weren't exactly the best cosmetics, but for the price (and for a little dabble with a new medium) Hitoka was willing to hand over her yen.

The choice of mediocre products was astounding. Hitoka didn't know where to look first.

Did she want a lipstick that was sheer and shiny? One that moisturised her lips and left behind a deep pigment even hours after the rest had rubbed off? Matte? Cream? Pearlescent or _Frosted?_ What about a tinted lip balm, or even a gloss?

Hitoka's nose rankled at the thought of lip glosses. A distant relative who'd attempted to buy her a birthday present when she was younger had purchased and haphazardly wrapped a set of fruit themed lip glosses. Hitoka had been less than amused, as had her mother, with the resulting sticky mess that smeared out of the applicator tubes and around a young Hitoka's face.

They were also of a substandard variety, and the acrid taste of artificially produced fruit flavouring was something that clung to Hitoka's nostrils to this very day.

She was to avoid using a lip gloss like it was the plague, as well as anything mango flavoured.

That left only an abundance of lipsticks for Hitoka to decide from. Hurray. Joy was ( _absolutely_ ) radiating from her pores. Hitoka had been stood in front of the cosmetic display in the combini for so long now that she'd assumed that the workers there believed she was to be a permanent fixture in the store.

Why was this so difficult?

Thankfully, the combini had enough space on the shelves for small samples of each colour and type; Hitoka took to combing through the lighter shades and making a small swatch on her wrist.

The matte lipstick was too dry and noticeable for everyday use, and (regrettably) so were the sheer lipsticks. Tinted lip balms, cream formula lipsticks, and one product that assured her would moisturise her lips during use, were also out of the question. They were all too noticeable or strangely coloured; while Hitoka wanted people to look at her and see a change, she didn't exactly want to broadcast it. She also didn't want to be flagged up for uniform deviancy by her teachers.

Subtlety was key, subtlety was _good_.

Subtlety assured that she wouldn't be mocked for trying out something new, and that her (rather timid) leap into the unknown would be responded to with a desire to know what exactly Hitoka Yachi was doing with herself to warrant attention _giving_ – _not_ attention _seeking_.

(That made more sense in Hitoka's head, but when left to anyone else they'd simply shrug and say she should do whatever made her happy.)

"Looks like it's frosted then," Hitoka murmured, twisting her wrist this way and that. The sample colour she'd swatched for that particular type of lipstick sparkled faintly under the poor fluorescent lighting inside the store. Hitoka selected one of the palest rose-colours from that style and carried it gently in her palm to the cash register.

Applying it in a thin coat across her lips would result in a faint, but noticeable, moist layer. With practice, Hitoka might actually begin to layer up the colour to draw more attention to her lips. She was convinced that part of Kiyoko's appeal originated with the beauty mark beside her mouth, and the way her lips naturally rested open as she sashayed down the halls. Hitoka's thoughts were to try and emulate that same fascination Kiyoko evoked out of boys and girl alike, but with makeup over expressions and genetics.

She could barely look into the cashier's eyes as she paid for her item, dashing out of the store and shoving the small plastic bag containing her purchase in the pocket of her sports jacket. The handles – which refused to stay inside her pocket, no matter how many times Hitoka jammed them back in there – stood out like two white plastic loops of shame.

 _I really have to stop thinking like this,_ Hitoka lamented. Makeup was pushed on girls from an early age – therein, she should have felt comfortable buying all of that stuff, right? So why did it feel unnatural? Why did Hitoka Yachi feel like such a fraud?

Oh, that's right. She had no idea as to how to actually _apply_ lipstick without looking like a clown.


	5. Maybe She's Born With It? --

**Heartbreaker? _Pfffsh..._**

* * *

 **Maybe She's Born With It? Maybe It's Hormones?**

* * *

Feeling very much like a criminal in her own home, Hitoka slammed the front door to the apartment she and her mother lived in behind her. With heaving breaths, she leant against the cool hardwood; the plastic bag in her pocket rustled along with the movement.

"Hitoka? Is that you?" Was her mother _really_ expecting it to be anyone else? "You're home earlier than I thought."

"A-ah, I had to go and buy something, so they let me l-leave early." They hadn't. All the team and Kiyoko had seen was a vaguely Yachi-shaped dust cloud that Hitoka had left in her wake. Sprinting all the way to that store had been a mistake, as had jogging the way home. Hitoka's sides were killing.

Hitoka's mother popped her head around the door to her 'office'. It was, in truth, a section of the open plan living room come kitchen-dining area which they'd partitioned off with decorative screens. For a two-bed apartment, the communal areas were incredibly large. Though the latter came at the expense of functional bedroom sizes. Hitoka's own room was akin to a hazy orange-coloured shoebox.

"Were you in a rush or something?" Madoka Yachi questioned shortly, and quickly sequestered herself back to her paperwork. "You're all red."

"Mm, or something," Hitoka replied, wishing she could get the damned handles of the carrier bag into her pocket. At this rate, her mother would come and badger her about her odd behaviour before she made it to her room.

 _Or_ , a mice-sized voice in Hitoka's mind quipped, _you could just ask her for some help?_

Hitoka felt sweat bead on her forehead. Hide or ask her mother? Be a coward or be brave?

Hitoka gulped but steeled herself. She padded towards her mother's office. "Ah-actually, it was something I had to buy for, um, I guess you could call it 'homework'? Kiyoko-San from the club is giving me a f-few pointers on being more… confident – ah-and she said that ma-maybe I could take inspiration from other people I know."

While she was stretching the truth a little, Hitoka _had_ taken some inspiration from her mother. The lipstick she had bought was testament enough to that.

"Oh?" Her mother wheeled her office chair from behind the partition, leaning back into the seat. It creaked; the stiff cream leather not used to being pushed in that direction.

"Uh-huh, and w-well, you wear lipstick and I thought…" Hitoka trailed off. Her mother's eyes were watering with- was that _pride?!_

"Really?!" Hitoka hadn't seen her mother this enthusiastic in ages. Usually, whenever Hitoka did something brave (like announcing to half of Miyagi's population in the train station that she was going to be Karasuno's next manager), her mother would feign a complacent, if indulgent façade and simply announce her support.

Unbeknownst to her daughter, Madoka Yachi was sickeningly proud of her Hitoka's actions, going so far as to try and hide her tears behind her hands; demanding her co-worker not mention her burst of motherly affection and to pass around the damn tissues.

Hitoka nodded gently, pulling the small plastic bag from her pocket. She held it out towards her mother, who eagerly snatched it up – rifling inside expectantly. When he mother's face crumpled, Hitoka felt her breath hitch. She'd failed again.

"O-oka-San?"

Madoka's lips quivered, and in a rather unladylike move she swiftly swiped her hand under her nose. Neither of the two drew attention to the translucent sheen now decorating Madoka's left sleeve. "While I'm really proud of you for taking this step… this… _this is just ghastly!"_

"Eh?" Hitoka squeaked.

"Right, that decides it," her mother said, brushing off her trousers as she stood from the desk chair. "We're raiding my makeup case."

Hitoka really wanted to protest; she'd seen the colours of some of those lipsticks, and hardly any of them were pale enough to sneak under the radar of a strict dress code at Karasuno. Hitoka would be better off painting a giant sign that said, 'I'm totally going to wear bright lipstick tomorrow!' and seeing how far she got before one of the teachers called her up about it than expecting cherry-red lips to be allowed.

"I think I've got just the thing for you." Madoka seized her daughter's arm, happily dragging a nervous Hitoka behind her.

Hitoka waited, sitting on the edge of her mother's bed, while the aforementioned dumped the contents of her makeup bag onto her vanity. Products scattered everywhere; the cylindrical packages rolling off the edge of the furniture and taking a journey across the carpet to Hitoka's feet.

"Here we go," her mother said finally, presenting a slim, silver tube and pressing it into Hitoka's left palm. "I bought it not long back while I was in Tokyo, but I misread the label. The colour is too weak for my complexion, though it should be fine with you."

At Hitoka's blank look, her mother prompted her. "Go on, take a look."

With trepidation, Hitoka popped the lid off of the lipstick tube. The sticker seal had already been broken – from her mother expecting to find a bolder colour inside, no doubt – but the stick itself hadn't been touched. The pristine edges were crisp, and no faint lines marred the angled head.

Nothing had touched this lipstick – nothing at all.

The colour was similar to the one Hitoka had picked out, but the casing and the feel of the composition when her mother took the lipstick, wound it out, and daubed a line on the top of Hitoka's hand, _screamed_ luxury.

Her mother was a follower of the philosophy that things were to be done right, and not at all. Unsurprisingly, Madoka Yachi was the one to said philosophy and instil it within her daughter. Saving your money and treating yourself to a posh tube of lippy from a hoity-toity store in Tokyo, therein, should lead to no regrets if you'd done a good job that day.

(Was there honestly any wonder Hitoka wanted everything to be perfect, and therefore ended up afraid of her own shadows most days?)

"Oka-san," Hitoka whispered.

Madoka beamed. "It's yours now. See! Look how pretty it looks against your skin."

"…Oka-San…"

Madoka was too busy clearing up her disarrayed makeup to hear Hitoka's mumbling.

"Oka-San!" Hitoka wailed. "I've g-got no idea how to put lipstick on!"

* * *

 _Use the angled side of the stick to trace the bow of your lips – the sharpened tip will help define those curves._

 _For your lower lip, one or two smooth swipes will cover it with colour. Don't drag it or apply too much in one go; people will tell if you do. And for my sake, please check your teeth before you do anything. Lipstick stuck there is a dead giveaway._

 _There we go, nice and simple,_ Hitoka recounted her mother's instructions, tracing the pale rosy lipstick across her mouth in her bedroom mirror. She smacked her lips, admiring the subtle sheen present along them.

Today was the start of a new school week, and the day that she would begin wearing lipstick as a sort of experiment. Hitoka thought about doing so for a couple of days, gauging people's reactions, and then switching back to wearing nothing at all and seeing if they noticed a difference.

Maybe she'd get asked about it? Maybe people would wonder if her lips had suddenly dried up or lost their pigment overnight, and would fuss over nothing?

Still, this would be a great learning experience for Hitoka. If the lipstick made that much of a difference, then she could always keep applying it daily. No lipstick was infallible though, as her mother had warned.

Madoka had slipped her a small compact mirror to go with the tube of expensive lipstick, so that Hitoka could check on her makeup discreetly in the school bathrooms and apply more if it had become patchy or wore off.

Thankfully, as Monday progressed the only time Hitoka needed to do as such was near the end of her lunch break. She'd stowed the compact and the lipstick cannister in her coin purse, rose from her seat to buy herself a drink, and quietly slipped into the bathroom before she did so to reapply a thin coat of pale pink.

She hadn't exactly been called out on a difference in her appearance, but Hitoka occasionally felt eyes on her – from her female friends in her class, and even Hinata titling his head curiously at her like she was a puzzle he couldn't quite figure out. The latter would only smile widely when she asked him if something was wrong and begin to babble on about the practice session being held in the gym later on.

Hitoka wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not. Hinata could be deceivingly perceptive, even though he was idiotic for the majority of the time.

Hitoka supposed the true hurdle in her experiment would arrive to truly trip her up during the Volleyball Club's practice later that afternoon. Kiyoko would be there, and Kōshi – and the both of them knew what she was up to.

Kiyoko smiled warmly when she noticed the change, however, and made sure to have a private chat with the girl while they waited for the boys to finish setting up the net on the court.

"That's a very pretty colour," Kiyoko stated, leaning close. Her hands adjusted the collar of Hitoka's sports jacket to try; the motion was practiced and used to quell any other reason the two would need to be so closely stood next to one another chatting. After all, Kiyoko had never been that involved with Hitoka before – generally she provided instructions and sent Hitoka on her way. "Flattering, not too noticeable. It's going to drive people mad."

Thanking Kiyoko for fiddling with her collar, Hitoka responded, "I think it already has. People keep looking, and well…"

A flush rose along her neck.

"You're doing fine," Kiyoko told her honestly. "It's a great start, though have you had any ideas about _them_ yet?"

Daichi, who had been watching over the first years – it had been their turn to set everything up in the gym under the watchful gaze of their seniors – gaped as whatever Shimizu had said to Yachi turned the latter bright red and shaky.

"Suga, she's doing it again," Daichi hissed to his Vice-Captain. "You said it was confidence lessons!"

Kōshi sighed, rolling a volleyball pliantly between his palms. He was, quite frankly, sick of this conversation. "It _is_ confidence lessons. Answer me this, when was the last time you saw Hitoka-Chan cry at the sight of us?"

It had been a while since such a reaction had been elicited. Asahi was still on his guard however, knowing that his developed frame and mature features usually shocked Hitoka into an unresponsive, quivering mess.

Daichi inclined his head to the two managers. "So that's basically Yachi-Chan relapsing or, well, whatever you'd call it?"

Kōshi hummed in affirmation. "She's a different person almost, though Hitoka-Chan's still so kind hearted. Actually, Dai-Chan, you've just reminded me I need to speak with Kiyoko-San about something. Please excuse me for a moment."

Kōshi wandered around the edge of the court without glancing back at Daichi, who extended his arm in a feeble attempt at stopping the Vice-Captain from moving away. The three of them – Kiyoko, Hitoka, and Kōshi – when grouped together, was a sight for sore eyes. Kiyoko Shimizu, for as long as Daichi had taken notice, had always been a captivating beauty. Suga too, held a certain charm that could turn the hearts of almost anyone, and Hitoka – though Daichi did not know her as well as the other two – was kind, caring, and dithered about in the most endearing manner.

Hitoka unleashed all sorts of parental protective instincts in Daichi Sawamura, but stood beside Kōshi and Kiyoko, the three looked like a functional family unit.

Daichi's fists clenched in spite of themselves. He told himself he was being silly but couldn't quite shake the image out of his mind.

"Looks like mummy is having an affair, and daddy isn't too impressed," Tsukishima muttered, a shit-eating grin spread widely across his face as he observed the proceedings across the other side of the gym. Tadashi Yamaguchi, while used to his friend's odd humour and sarcastic remarks, felt almost perplexed about the exclamation that Karasuno's Captain and Vice-Captain were a married couple and rolled his eyes in return.

Actually, they did act like it sometimes, Tadashi admitted to himself. Though calling Suga and the Captain 'mummy' and 'daddy', respectively, was a little _weird_.

Tadashi, stood by the roll-able cart filled with volleyballs kept in one of the interior store cupboards inside the gym, directed his attention between Karasuno's Captain and the objects of the latter's frustration.

Was it just him, or was there something different about Hitoka Yachi today?

Honestly, Tadashi had always found her a little cute. She was small, and shy, and willing to put up with a team of sweaty volleyball players on a daily basis. Plus, anyone who could wrangle Hinata into studying must be a saint. How could anyone not pay attention when she entered a room?

Today though, it was as though she were amplified. _Brighter_ – even when surrounded by Kiyoko and Suga.

Hitoka Yachi _shone_ that afternoon. The light filtering in through the cloudy gym windows and the open doors bounced against her face, catching her lips and setting it ablaze in a haze of sparkles.

Tadashi shook himself, quickly looking away and busying himself with the cart of volleyballs once more. Why had he been looking at her lips, precisely?

"Don't look now," Kei warned him. "But _daddy_ looks like he wants to wipe the floor with you."

With a gulp, Tadashi Yamaguchi rose his head and looked death straight on in the face. Daichi Sawamura's eyes were narrowed suspiciously once more; it was the same expression worried fathers wore when their little girls grew up and decided allowing boys to hold their hands (and more) was the best thing since instant ramen. That is to say, Protective Parent #1 of Karasuno's Boys Volleyball team had pinned Tadashi with a fearsome glare.

 _I'm watching you_ , his gaze seemed to say.


	6. Orange

**Heartbreaker? _Pfffsh..._**

* * *

 _Orange_

* * *

"Do you think you could ask your mother where she found these wine glasses?" Kiyoko inquired. As was custom, she had supplied their meeting with grape juice and snacks. Suga, who'd also somehow been roped into attending (again), lifted up his glass as a signal for needing a refill.

"I d-don't know whether she'd remember," Hitoka informed the elder manager regretfully. She was the one playing hostess this time, and gingerly leant across the low coffee table to fill Kōshi's glass with shaky hands. "She doesn't really drink all that often, so w-who knows how long these have been in our cupboard."

Friday evening had soon come around, and with Saturday's practice called off this week, Kiyoko had proposed another meeting between the three of them to help check on Hitoka's progress. Only, Kiyoko's parents had been at home this time (which was, in one word, awkward), and Kōshi really didn't want to explain bringing two girls home and inviting them into his room to his mother. Hitoka had announced her mother was away for the weekend, and therefore they could hold the meeting at her apartment.

Problem solved. However, this 'meeting', somehow, had evolved into a full-fledged sleepover.

Kōshi was (thankfully) excluded from that.

They'd assembled in Hitoka's living room, splaying out as best as they could on the sofa and arm chairs. She'd told them there was no point in trying to gather in her room – they'd only end up wearing their knees for earrings if they did.

So, the living room it was.

While the space looked modern, it was bland. Stylish – Kōshi expected no less from someone who's parent worked in design – but lacking a touch of flair. The walls were white and cold and clinical, like they'd only just moved in. Artificial flowers were placed in vases on sideboards and shelves. The only thing that seemed out of place were the screen partitions in the corner of the room, and the faint orange glow emancipating down the hall, which Hitoka had informed them was coming from her bedroom walls.

"Wine glasses aside," Kōshi interjected, pointedly staring at Kiyoko over the top of his own drink. "I've had Daichi on my back for most of the week because of you."

'Me?' Kiyoko's innocently raised arches of her eyebrows seemed to say as she coyly took a sip of her juice.

"He seems to think you – and maybe me considering how you've included me in these meetings – are coercing Hitoka-Chan into some shady stuff. I already told him-" _multiple times, in fact_ , Kōshi thought bitterly, "- that you're working with Hitoka-Chan on her confidence, but will he believe me?"

"I g-guess not?" Hitoka mumbled.

Daichi's latest theory was that the suburban domesticity surrounding Kiyoko's home, and even the nondescript occupations her parents worked in, were just a cover for business in the underworld.

Did Miyagi Prefecture even have a shady underbelly?

Kōshi shook his head. Those were ponderings for another time, because Kiyoko – dare he say it – looked like she was going to burst with happiness. He'd got pretty good at reading the subtle expressions on her face when they appeared. The two girls had settled back into talking while he'd been distracted by his thoughts.

Kōshi noted that Kiyoko's lips would twitch whenever she felt like being cheeky, or if she found something amusing. Other than when it was present in the natural resting expression of her face, Kiyoko's smile was unnoticeable. To see her lips curl or for her teeth to flash would be akin to signalling the end of the world, Kōshi was sure, because he'd never actually seen Kiyoko do that. Ever.

Her eyes would crinkle when she was happy. She'd tilt her head if she was confused, or if she was challenging you – and all the while that tiny beauty mark would be drawing your attention and…

Kōshi's eyes widened in realisation. Had Kiyoko got so used to 'seducing' other teams and wearing her mask around Karasuno that she subconsciously broadcasted her beauty to everyone these days? That would certainly explain Nishinoya and Tanaka's behaviour, or others if they were unbelievably weak to female charms. Kōshi, while no exception to the latter, liked to think he had more control than that.

"I do like what you've done with the lipstick though, Hitoka-Chan," Kiyoko said, eyes sparkling.

Hitoka chewed on her bottom lip, "It worked, because p-people looked confused when I wasn't wearing it."

"Hello?" Kōshi wafted his free hand to gain the two manager's attention. "We've got a bigger problem than lih… _ugh_ , lipstick here. Daichi thinks you're indoctrinating Hitoka-Chan into Miyagi's secret mafia or something."

"You can tell Daichi Sawamura the next time you see him that Hitoka-Chan and I are dealing with 'girl things'," Kiyoko informed Kōshi waspishly. "Then we'll see if he wants to pry."

"G-girl things?" Kōshi stuttered, nearly dropping his wine glass.

The expression on Kiyoko Shimizu's face was something he had never seen before in his life and would quite happily wish to never see ever again. Nishinoya and Tanaka wouldn't believe him if he told them about it; Kiyoko's angelic managerial appearance too well-established in their minds for any sort of negativity or demonism to exist.

"Menstruation," Kiyoko snipped, and Kōshi tried his best not to drop his head into his hands and cry. "Lingerie, makeup, fashion, _tampons-"_

"Okay, okay!" Kōshi would quite happily pass along the message. If it turned Diachi's stomach anything like it did his own, then he was sure Karasuno's Captain would leave well alone. "I _get_ it."

Glancing at the clock on the wall (a heavy, monochromatic thing that somehow blended into the white uninteresting walls despite it's size and masculine design), Kōshi drained the dregs of his juice from the wine glass.

"It's probably time I head off now," he told the two girls. "Thank you for inviting me over though, Hitoka-Chan."

"It's n-no trouble," Hitoka returned, quickly darting off into the open plan kitchen to deposit the dirtied glass in the sink.

"Perhaps you could return the favour next time?" Kiyoko called as Hitoka showed Kōshi out of the apartment.

 _Not bloody likely_ , Kōshi thought with a grim smile.

* * *

"Now that he's gone, we can move onto phase two," said Kiyoko as Hitoka plopped back onto the sofa. "Date clothing."

"Ki-Kiyoko-San…" Hitoka responded softly. "I think you're getting way ahead of yourself t-there."

Hitoka had placed the three polaroids in her desk draw, mainly to avoid awkward questions from her mother. Not that Madoka often snooped through her daughter's room, but on the off chance she came inside to talk about something with Hitoka, noticing three (incredibly out of place and stalker-ish) photographs of teenage boys might set an alarm bell ringing in Hitoka's mother's head.

Imagine trying to explain that one to an extremely bewildered parent.

( _I'm not a stalker Mum, I swear. I've just been assigned to seduce them is all.)_

Not being able to look at their faces was an excellent way of not acknowledging you had a problem too. She'd cross that bridge when she came to it, or, she supposed, whenever Kiyoko had enough of her inaction and launched Hitoka at her targets.

Kiyoko pursed her lips. "What do you usually wear when you go out, Hitoka-Chan?"

"I-I mean, I guess it depends?" Hitoka replied, fiddling with the smaller beaker of juice in her hands. "Sometimes I feel like getting dressed up and being girly and cute, and sometimes I just p-put on a nice hoodie and some jeans… b-but…"

"But?"

"There a-are days when I don't feel like getting dressed at all, a-and well, ah, _sweatpants_."

Kiyoko, in a rare display of indulgent emotion, smiled widely at Hitoka. "We all have those days."

('We' being 'Women' of course. When one felt pathetic, or bloated, or self-conscious, there was only one thing for it: ratty pyjama bottoms or a pair of ugly – but comfortable – sweatpants.)

"Still," Kiyoko continued. She leant forward in her seat to select a snack off a serving platter Hitoka had dug out of the kitchen cupboards. "You'll have to think about it sometime. I prefer to wear well-fitting, mature clothing; skirts, smart trousers, tailored tops, soft knitwear and the like. However, you're crafting a completely different image to me."

On the team of the crows, the two girls couldn't be more different. Kiyoko resembled the austere, frightening exterior of said birds; dark hair as soft as feathers, beauty mark and attitude wielded like a razer sharp beak. Hitoka was a culmination of the crows in internet compilations – the one's that were caught on film hopping down the street to sixties music, or photographed getting creative in pursuit of a meal. **(1)**

"I like stars, and p-pastels, and c-cute things," Hitoka admitted.

Despite the few articles of clothing she owned which could only be described as 'slobbish', Hitoka wore a lot of pale colours; lilacs, mint greens, creams and baby pinks. Bright eye-catching accessories – layered bangles, hair ties, knee socks – were also key to assembling her outfits, along with the odd graphic t-shirt. In her closet there were a few outlandish things; a mohair jumper her mother had brought back from one of her business trips that could double as a thigh-skimming dress, and a patterned playsuit Hitoka had yet to take the tags off. (The thing had tiny silver and pink spaceships printed across the black fabric, and while it was cute, Hitoka had never found a need to wear it before.)

"What about underwear?" Kiyoko asked casually.

Hitoka sputtered; "Wha-wha-what about it?!"

"What you wear under your clothes can have just as much power over you as anything else you choose to put on. It's, well, another way to empower yourself?" Kiyoko tried to explain. "Choosing a different cut on your briefs that morning might make you feel safe, or they could, instead, make you feel incredibly flirty. The lace applied to your bras is for yourself, and the bright colour of the fabric nobody's business but your own – let me say that once again; you dress for yourself, but it's what you choose to do with those choices that will display who you are as a person."

Hitoka could understand that. While young girls were encouraged to get dolled up and look cute for boys, older girls had figured out that the secret behind attraction lay within carving out your own identity. A product with a high purchase price was more desirable over one that came a dime a dozen, right? Personalisation, showing who you were through textiles and colour choices and themes, _that_ was how you caught someone's attention – and with your words and actions, you would _keep_ it.

"Sometimes," Kiyoko told Hitoka, leaning forward and sharing her innermost secrets, "I wear a bright orange set to school. No one can tell when I'm wearing a knitted vest over the top of my shirt, and it makes me happy. It's like I'm supporting Karasuno in an even more personal way."

Hitoka was clinging to her sofa; bright red and shaky. That… that was a little more personal than she'd expected, and she was giving her best effort not to look at Kiyoko's chest. What would Nishinoya and Tanaka pay to be privy to this information? Would they die upon hearing those words fall from Kiyoko's lips?

Hitoka couldn't help but feel this was all too fast and personal though. She knew she'd agreed to this in order to fully help the Volleyball Club, but a complete overhaul on her image and personality felt too… too _much_. Too _real_ and imposing. Change was good, but sudden change was terrifying. And any change concerning underwear was enough to send Hitoka in a hysterical fit over her allowance.

Bras were expensive, okay?

When she conveyed her fears to Kiyoko some time later, as both Senpai and Kohai were settling into their beds in Hitoka's room (the latter insisting Kiyoko take her bed and that she would take the spare futon they kept in the linen cupboard), Kiyoko couldn't help the slight giggle that escaped her mouth.

"I'm not asking you to completely change Hitoka-Chan. You've just got to build on whatever you already have. Think of it as one of your drawings. You start with a sketch, refine your lines, and then begin to ink them onto the page before you add colour."

"So, what you're s-saying is-"

"Go at your own pace," Kiyoko told her softly. "I don't expect you to evolve much more from how you are now, because you're already doing so well – and you _don't realise it_. Gather your confidence, find your stride, and you'll be absolutely fine."

They were silent for a few moments more, shuffling around in their covers. Hitoka looked to Kiyoko for confirmation to turn off the lamp on top of her desk.

"However," Kiyoko couldn't help but add, "Going and getting fitted for a new bra couldn't hurt. You never know, there might be a deal on buying the full matching set."

* * *

 **(1)** Have any of you seen that video? It's crow hopping around a Japanese street to the Beach Boys. Never fails to make me smile!


	7. Dadchi

**Heartbreaker? _Pfffsh..._**

* * *

 _"Dadchi"_

* * *

The summer months were hitting the students of Karasuno High hard. In came the humid, heavy weather; harsh sunshine and threatening thunderstorms as a result of too much pressure in the air.

Practicing in such weather, and in their tiny, non-ventilated gym, the boy's Volleyball Club were suffering. Some of the dusty upper windows in the gym had been pried open, and the doors left wide to encourage a slight breeze inside. Spare netting had been drawn across the entrance; mostly to prevent large insects from fluttering inside, but also as a preventive measure to keep stray volleyballs from clocking passers-by on the head.

The heat, along with the strain of spikes, serves, tosses and drills on their muscles, caused rivulets of sweat to drip from their bodies. Coach Ukai and Takeda-Sensei seemed to be suffering too, though they were often only sat observing the boys at the side of the gym and offering the occasional corrective instruction or bits of praise.

Kiyoko and Hitoka had taken to removing their sports jackets, proudly running after and caring for the boys in their jogging pants and simple white tees that had the Karasuno logo proudly printed on the breast.

Refreshments and hydration were key, and Hitoka found herself making many trips to fill up water bottles (and to Ukai's family store when he slipped her the money to go and buy everyone an ice cream – an act that rarely happened except for days when the boys were really struggling in the heat).

The days were muggy, so any opportunity to shed layers of clothing and cool down were taken. Hitoka was pretty sure she'd never blush and cringe away from a shirtless Tanaka ever again; he stripped in jubilation often enough, but now the summer sunshine gave him more of an excuse. There were only so many bare chests you could see before you completely phased them out – sort of like looking only through your peripherals whenever one appeared. Averting your gaze with little fanfare had become a talent of Hitoka's.

As with all clothing (and feeling hot and bothered) during summer, certain fits and seams that didn't usually bother one before _did_ _now._ That meant hemlines which dug into your skin, chaffing on your thighs from irritating clothing and swelling flesh, and that one label in the back of your shirt that felt as though it would single-handedly cut its way through your neck.

Hitoka's shoulders felt stiff from pressure. She was yet again filling up water bottles, only this time the boys had emptied them minutes before and demanded refills. The pressure she felt wasn't from their demands, or even the burden of being the designated shepherd of Kageyama and Hinata, but from her new bra.

(Kiyoko had got her way after all, and Hitoka had wept about her empty purse after the elder manager had vacated her apartment shortly after their shopping trip.)

She fiddled with the straps once more, hand darting underneath the collar of her t-shirt and below the hems of her sleeves to tug the strap back into place. Having been a rush that morning, Hitoka hadn't adjusted them tight enough. She was now paying for that by having to meddle with them every few minutes, and the heat didn't help.

Thankfully no one had seemed to notice her hands darting under her shirt.

(Yamaguchi's face was just red from all the exercise – _a-and the heat!)_

Finished with her task, she carried the bottles back inside the gym. Most of the team had chosen to lie on the flooring that surrounded the marked court; there would have been more space inside those white lines, but allowing sweat to fall onto the court was a bad idea. Someone – most probably Hitoka, while the boys psyched themselves up for another practice game – would have to go around and mop at the sweaty patches left behind with a towel, just in case it caused anyone to slip during play.

'Thank you's' echoed around the gym as Hitoka distributed the bottles. Coach Ukai, fanning himself with Takeda-Sensei's clipboard (the latter had darted back to the teacher's lounge inside the school for a few minutes, and wasn't present to tell the Coach off for doing so), beckoned Hitoka over. Daichi was with him; both had been in discussion with one another.

"Yachi-San, I was going to talk with you," Coach Ukai announced as she wandered over. "We're going to go over some stuff for the training camp later – you're alright to go on that still yeah? – anyway, here-"

Handing over his cash wasn't exactly easy to do. Keishin Ukai had _seen_ the way those boys devoured nikuman. The amount those daily bills totalled up to was appalling really. Did they not have food at their own homes? Was he really so old that he'd forgot what a growing teenage boy's appetite was like?

"T-the same as usual?" Hitoka asked, the polite bow of her head somehow conveying that, yes, she was still able to attend the upcoming trip. Her mother had signed the waiver the night before.

Coach Ukai nodded stiffly. "Actually wait," he reluctantly handed her a few more notes. "Buy double, we need them today."

"Do you need a hand with all of that, Yachi-Chan?" Daichi asked, and Hitoka nearly dropped Coach Ukai's money in fright.

"Ah-eh- I, um," she mumbled, fingers jittering around the Yen notes.

"Take him with you Yachi-San. We'll put someone else in for the duration of this next game," the Coach returned, waving the pair away.

That was how Hitoka Yachi ended up spending an excruciatingly painful ten-minute walk to the shops with one Daichi Sawamura. It wasn't just the threatening pressure of an oncoming thunderstorm in the air any longer. You could practically cut the tension between the two with a large knife.

"So…" Daichi began tenuously. "The training camp sounds exciting, right Yachi-Chan?"

"Mm," she hummed, trying her best to look at her feet and the road ahead. It would save her from tripping, or worse, blacking out while she tried to formulate a response and maintain eye-contact.

"Have you been to Tokyo before?"

"M-my mother has taken me th-there before… _for business trips_ ," Hitoka hastily added. "It's a busy p-place. Not like Miyagi."

For the next few minutes, only the rhythmic slap of rubber-soled shoes against the baking concrete could be heard. Hitoka kept her head ducked against he chest, taking one step at a time. Daichi didn't seem to mind – or notice – that their conversation was stilted, so maybe she was being irrationally anxious?

Finally happening upon the Sankanoshita Store (Daichi gesturing for Hitoka to step inside the door before him), the two set about collecting frozen popsicles and ice cream goodness from the glass-lidded chest freezer inside the shop. Daichi clung onto the back of Hitoka's shirt as she dived inside to reach the last few remaining frozen treats that lay there. Apparently, plenty of other people had had the same idea as Coach Ukai; near fleecing the store of its stock.

Hitoka wriggled her way back off the side of the freezer's ledge and onto her feet. She wobbled unsteadily, her back almost colliding with Daichi's chest. His hands shot out to steady her shoulders, and Hitoka flinched as they made contact with the chafed strips of skin below her bra straps. "Th-thank you."

"No problem."

Coach Ukai's mother had been manning the shop front, and she chattered one-sidedly with the assistant manager and the Captain while they checked out their items. Daichi helpfully held open a plastic carrier bag for Hitoka to place each ice cream inside; allowing the narrow plastic handles to cut into his palm while she paid.

Now what was the plan? Hitoka wondered.

They'd made it a leisurely ten-minute walk to the store through all the heat, but now they had frozen goods to cart back with them. Daichi – still carrying the plastic bag – could easily jog the way back to the gym and cut the time down by half. But then he'd be a sweaty, panting mess and the ice creams could get jostled and broken.

She could run with him? Hitoka shook her head, that wouldn't do either. Looks like they'd just have to walk together again, though perhaps a little less unhurried this time.

Cue another eight or so minutes of pure _urgh_. Hitoka tried to put up a winning smile at the thought of more awkward conversation, but the expression slid away in her uneasiness.

"I'm really glad you've joined the club, Yachi-Chan," Daichi rambled. "It's nice to know that the team will be in safe hands without Shimizu there."

"I," Hitoka felt a little choked up actually. Wasn't it nice to know she was appreciated! However, there was the little matter of passing Kiyoko's final lesson, which was looming over her like a guillotine, before Hitoka could really say she was fit for the job. "I'm gl-glad I joined too, Sawamura-San."

"Mah, you can call me Daichi," the aforementioned said, rubbing at the back of his neck with his free hand. "And if anyone – _anyone_ –" here his tone dropped to something positively _frosty_ , " – does something to upset or hurt you, then you come straight to me."

Hitoka gaped up at him. Daichi felt colour bloom in his cheeks. "Or Suga. Asahi, or even Tanaka. We're always here to help okay?"

"S-sure," Hitoka mumbled, bobbing her head in affirmation like a crazed cockatoo. "The club is really nice. Like a… like a big family!"

Hitoka wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow her up there and then. For something catastrophic (like a tsunami wave) to appear out of nowhere and sweep her off her feet, never to be seen (mortified) ever again. She clapped her hands over her mouth; Hitoka hadn't meant to blurt that last bit out aloud.

This is what happened when your nervousness battled with your chronic shyness and won.

Daichi, however, laughed it off. "We are, aren't we? Noya's the fun uncle that turns up at family get-togethers to rile up the children with sugary snacks, and Asahi's the weird uncle people try to avoid."

Hitoka relaxed somewhat, joining in. "Kiyoko-San is like the older s-sister who's been away to university-"

"-Mm! I bet she's all, 'I really couldn't care less' when relatives try to talk to her," Daichi snorted. Truthfully, it wasn't far from Kiyoko's aloof behaviour; imagining her as a reclusive, pithy twenty-something wasn't that much of a stretch for Daichi's imagination. "Hinata, Kageyama, and Tsukishima already act like children most of the time."

"Yamaguchi-Kun is like a tired mother," Hitoka giggled, picturing poor Tadashi as such (restless new-born and all).

Daichi, too, had to laugh at that. "Ennoshita, Kinoshita, and Narita are like the three elder siblings or the cousins we don't always get to see because of the younger ones. They're too good for this family."

The pair were nearing the gym now, and their laughter had drawn the attention of the team. The latter's short practice game had finished earlier than expected, and the team had vacated the boiling interior of the gym to the shaded areas surrounding the building.

"Ukai-San is like grandfather," Hitoka whispered to him, eyeing the blond Coach as he stretched out his back with a twinge and a groan.

Daichi, lips curling back in a smile, returned her lisping statement with a playful warning. "Don't let him hear you saying that. And anyway, as Captain does that make me Team Dad? What does that make Suga?"

Hitoka, to her eternal shame, blurted; " _Sugamama!_ "

Daichi, creased over with laughter, released his grip on the carrier bag to Hitoka. She quickly distributed the melting ice creams out, setting aside the brand Kiyoko really liked and also another that she herself favoured – otherwise, they'd never get to eat one at all. Coach Ukai thanked her when she handed his own snack to him, though both of his palms were outstretched. Hitoka placed the ice cream in one and his change in the other.

Keishin couldn't help but wonder what had happened during the errand. Hitoka and Daichi had walked away in a nervous haze, but somehow in the space of twenty-five minutes, they'd returned all laughter and smiles. Originally, Keishin would chalk it down to Daichi fussing over the younger manager and coaxing her out of her shell, yet these days Hitoka Yachi had been changing.

Villager B wasn't just an extra any more, he realised with a smile.

If Daichi wasn't the one responsible for this drastic change, then Hitoka certainly was. Keishin had to admit that this team of crows were amazingly adaptable.

* * *

"What's so funny?" Kōshi demanded, trying to unwrap his popsicle with one hand and prying Daichi up from the ground with the other.

"Su-su," Daichi stuttered around his laughter. "'Sugamama', _haha!"_

Finally pulling Daichi to his feet, Kōshi looked steadily into the aforementioned's mirthful eyes. With a deadpan expression, Kōshi uttered; "Dadchi."

'Dadchi' opened his mouth to disagree, but wisely chose not to argue further with Sugamama. Now wasn't the time for a martial dispute; it was hot and they had ice cream to eat.

* * *

 **A/N [20/6/2018]:  
**

 **Okay, so I'm seven Chapters in (of thirty), and writing 2,000 words a day for the past week has been [legitimate hell] interesting. That being said, the next phase/arc of Hitoka's story begins with Chapter 8, but I'm going to take a week off, get ahead of myself with writing – and update other projects I've neglected *cough* _You Only Tell The Truth_ *cough* - and then continue _Heartbreaker? Pfffsh…_**

 **In the meantime, thank you to everyone who's read, followed, favourited, or reviewed. Seeing those notifications really brightens my day!**


	8. It's Like I'm Watching The --

**A/N [27/6/2018]: We're back for another seven days of updating hell! (Things really didn't go to plan with me taking a break and catching up on my writing...) Anyway, expect updates daily until this time next week (aka 4/7/2018). I think that's how I'm going to run updating for this story; blitz out seven chapters, cry in a corner for a week, and then repeat. Sound good?  
**

* * *

 **Heartbreaker? _Pfffsh..._**

* * *

 _It's Like I'm Watching The Discovery Channel_

* * *

Hitoka wasn't nervous, per se, although the tight clenching in her stomach may have been just nerves and not the milk she'd drunk at breakfast that might have expired – she was blaming the roiling on the latter, unconvincingly trying to convince herself it was so. She wasn't exactly looking forwards to the upcoming training camp either, though that had nothing to do with the possible re-emergence of her breakfast.

The team were travelling down to Tokyo, more specifically, _Fukurōdani_ Academy.

Hitoka knew what that meant. Kiyoko had been slipping her looks that ranged between concerned to amused all week during Karasuno's practice sessions.

This would be Hitoka's first time attending a training camp, so the pressure was on for her to do a good job. Not that she believed she could do anything other than her best; Karasuno's team were already a rag-tag bunch, what was one more reprobate amongst them? No, Hitoka just didn't want to embarrass them with her shyness, and more importantly herself make a spectacle of Karasuno when around their competition.

The fact that her first target would be there had nothing to do with it whatsoever.

Nu-uh.

Nope.

Who was she kidding? She was terrified. He was _terrifying_. She hadn't even met him yet, but that picture was pretty intimidating already. Although, unlike _Boulder_ – who's face Hitoka believed wouldn't change even if a stiff breeze smacked into it at full force – and _Flirt_ – who's smile was a little _too predatory_ for her liking and would likely cause anxiety in small children and animals (herself included) – _Idiot_ was at least grinning.

It was a _nice_ grin. Hitoka wasn't sure how she'd react if it was directed at her though.

Would it be like the movies and manga depicted? All fluttery tummies and inner warmth? Longing smiles, hopelessly romantic gestures or encounters? Would she wrap him around her finger completely? Would it be the other way around?

Could she willingly and knowingly do that to a person, then move on to someone else once she was done?

(What if he wanted _more?_ )

Hitoka shuddered, trying to supress the shaking in her fingers and bouncing her knees up and down while she sat, bundled up between Kiyoko and Kōshi, in the mini-van. There were a few empty seats (Hinata and Kageyama were currently in make-up test Hell), and Kōshi usually sat beside Daichi; he'd today chosen to wedge Hitoka between himself and Kiyoko once the latter had sent him what he assumed was a pleading look.

Kōshi wasn't sure about that to be honest. Kiyoko's face could be apathetic at best even when expressing great joy.

The trio had sat near the back of the bus. The rest of the team were trying to avoid it still, even though the residue of Hinata's 'accident' had been cleared up weeks ago; it gave them a little cover to talk privately while everyone else got het up closer to the front of the bus. The seats still smelt faintly of a pleasant citrus disinfectant and whatever cleaning agent had been used to wipe away the mess. Tanaka's trousers hadn't been so lucky.

"So, Hitoka-Chan," Kōshi began, grinning widely. "Today's the day, huh?"

Hitoka wanted to make like Hinata and hurl.

Kiyoko, with a withering glance to Kōshi, pet the younger girl on the back as Hitoka leant forward to grasp at the fabric of the trousers covering her knees. "You will be fine, Hitoka-Chan, and even if it doesn't go to plan during this trip there will be other opportunities."

Talk turned away from the anticipation of Hitoka's first seduction to what she'd do after she'd done away with that target.

"You could always make your lipstick into a power move," Kiyoko suggested, her tone soft and low as the bus quietened down. There was only so much rabblerousing from Tanaka and Nishinoya that everyone could take, so the bus often fell silent in rough twenty-minute intervals before the pair of second years found something else entertaining to screech about.

"How so?" Kōshi dared to ask.

"Well," Kiyoko tapped her index finger against her lower lip, "Once you've succeeded with a target, you could kiss their picture goodbye. Or I suppose you could just cross them out with lipstick."

Bemused, Kōshi muttered, "That makes it sound like they're on a hit list or something."

 _Actually, they kind of are,_ Hitoka thought. She worried her lip between her teeth, tasting the balmy fruity tang to the lipstick she wore on her tongue.

"Assassination, seduction, same difference," Kiyoko shrugged.

"I sincerely hope that's sarcasm," Kōshi muttered under his breath. "People don't believe me when I tell them you've got a dark side."

"Oh, did you go crying to 'Daddy'?"

Hitoka shrunk in on herself. Now there wasn't just the pressure of targets or being a good manager on her shoulders, but also acting as the mediating wall between Kiyoko and Kōshi once they got into it against one another. Barbs would fly oftentimes during the meetings the three of them shared, and only Kiyoko's carefully maintained and refined mask kept them from being flung left right and centre during club hours.

Kiyoko and Kōshi, like with Kiyoko and Daichi's shared devotion to Karasuno's Boys Volleyball Club, were similar in how they both had blackened aspects to their personality that often didn't come to the surface. Kōshi would be the first to admit that sometimes a switch would be flipped in his personality, and that nasty words could tumble easily from his mouth – the perks of being a Gemini, he supposed. In Kiyoko's case however, it was more than likely she hid that inner snarkiness away under demure smiles and through measured verbal responses that hit the critical mark when she uttered them.

Maximum damage in return for minimal input. It was almost robotic.

Eying one another, the two third years swallowed down their barbed remarks and insults. Poor Hitoka was shaking like a leaf between them. Her chattering teeth (even though the hot summer sun was out in full force) were drawing the attention of those at the front of the bus.

Thankfully, the rest of their conversation had gone unheard, and the bus was due to pull into the parking lot any minute now.

"I d-don't…" Hitoka gasped. They were now parked, and Coach Ukai and Takeda-Sensei were telling them to grab their bags and to vacate the vehicle.

"I don't think I can do this!" She wailed, clutching onto Kiyoko and Kōshi's sleeves like a reluctant child. The pair did their best to drag her to the front of the bus while Hitoka stuttered and stumbled over the reasons why this was a Very Bad Idea™.

"Nonsense," Daichi interjected after having overheard some of Hitoka's wailed protests. "You'll do us proud no matter what. Of that, I'm sure."

After hearing that, Hitoka felt some of the pressure lift. Kiyoko squeezed the younger manager's shoulders reassuringly. Kōshi was positively beaming his support at her through his smile, and Dadchi believed in her abilities (well, most of them. Hitoka presumed he'd vehemently deny her skills of seducing anyone.)

Nothing could go wrong if that was the case.

* * *

Things, naturally, went horribly, horribly wrong.

From the exact moment Karasuno and their managers wandered inside Fukurōdani's gym, to be precise.

A few of the other team's players from the Tokyo schools had been present to direct them onto the school grounds – a couple from Nekoma, Kiyoko had told Hitoka; one of which was on a friendly basis with Hinata and looked disappointed for the ginger-haired teen's missing presence.

Hitoka was convinced that whoever had founded these schools way back when had some kind of sick sense of humour. Inside the gym it was like a miniature collective of Noah's Arc. While unfamiliar with two of the teams attending – who were also a part of this 'Tokyo Group' Takeda-Sensei had informed them of whilst talking through the details of the training camp – Nekoma and Fukurōdani stood out simply because they were incredibly similar, and just as basal in their personalities, to Karasuno.

Honestly, having a murder of crows, a clowder of cats, and a parliament of owls all under one roof sounded like the premise to a very poor joke.

Despite the sheer quantity of people inside the gym, Hitoka could easily spot _him_.

She also had no where to hide.

Kiyoko was busying herself with taking notes, Kōshi was trapped in a serious conversation with Daichi, and there was literally no one else around who knew what she was going through. Tanaka had held his bragging contest with his almost-doppelganger from Nekoma, so Hitoka was already a little on edge from being leered at. Thankfully Kiyoko had been present to steer Hitoka away from their idiocy.

Now though, there was no one to save her from other incoming teams approaches:

"Karasuno have two managers?" One of the players from Fukurōdani asked, plucking the heavy holdall bag (containing medical equipment, extra jerseys, bibs, and emergency energy drinks and gels) from out of Hitoka's hands and placing it to the side.

"A-ah, I'm in training," Hitoka replied, trying not to flinch under how his eyes (slightly narrowed and looking at her as though he could see right through) scrutinised her attire. She was dressed no differently from Kiyoko; a light, plain white polo shirt and black sports trousers.

Hitoka coughed delicately, kneeling beside the team's holdall to dig out their numbered bibs.

"Akaashi!" Hitoka flinched _that_ time. "AH! It's a baby bird!"

Kōtarō Bokuto was pointing at her.

 _Idiot_ was pointing at _her._

Hitoka wondered if she tried hard enough and maybe broke a few bones, whether the small space inside the holdall could serve as an impromptu hiding spot. The only issue would be the zip – seeing as it was on the outside – and the chance that anyone could come across her by simply tugging on that particular fixing. And the broken legs. Oh, and maybe the fact that two people would watch as she carried this out would be a dead giveaway also.

'Akaashi', with his distractingly crimped hair and dead eyes, exhaled shortly though his nose. "Bokuto-San, this is – actually, who are you?"

"Y-Yachi Hitoka," she stuttered back. She could feel heat rising in her cheeks.

Kōtarō Bokuto was tall and lean. His hair stood on end like an owl's plumage, with a two-toned sheen and a crisp, yet inviting, texture. Hitoka had often wondered what it would be like to run her hands through Kōshi's, Kiyoko's, or even Hinata's hair; would it be silky and soft, or stiff and knotted? Call it a crow's curiosity, but the urge returned occasionally and usually during the most inappropriate times. One day Hitoka probably wouldn't be able to restrain her inquisitiveness.

Bokuto, towering over the small blonde, stuck out his hand. Hitoka took it gingerly, unsure of what he would do if she did until he began to manically waft her wrist about in the approximation of a handshake. "I'm Bokuto Kōtarō. Nice to meet you, baby bird!"

"It's Yachi," Akaashi huffed.

Bokuto pouted. "Nice to meet you, Yacchan," he beamed.

Hitoka (as discreetly as possible) choked on her spit. _Ohnohe'scute–_

Her hand shot out before Hitoka could register what she was doing; her fingers gently tapping against the spiked peaks on Bokuto's head.

"Soft…" she murmured. She missed the way Akaashi's eyes narrowed further, however Bokuto's laughter made her start. "Eh- ah! _Sorry!"_

"S'no trouble!" Bokuto didn't look offended, for which Hitoka was thankful. Her mortification was evident though.

Before she could formulate a reply (most likely just incoherent sputtering and them taking her face burning hotter than a house fire as a normality whenever she spoke to the two of them) Akaashi grabbed hold of his Captain's collar and dragged him away. Bokuto waved goodbye enthusiastically to Hitoka, the heels of his shoes squeaking against the gym flooring as he was pulled.

"Hitoka-Chan?" Kōshi placed a strong hand on her shoulder. "We need our bibs-"

"I c-can't do this. I can't do this-"

"Hitoka-Chan? Do you need me to get Kiyoko?" Kōshi's eyes scanned the gym. Kiyoko was stood with Coach Ukai, studiously marking down notes into the exercise book she usually carried with her. It was nice to see that she was taking the 'friendly' training camp seriously enough to gather intel on the Tokyo schools. Leaving her protégé to flounder, however, was not so good.

 _"Kōshi-San he's cute!"_ Hitoka wailed, her forehead butting into Suga's knees. While the moniker of 'Team Mum' had (unfortunately) stuck with him, Kōshi was far out of his league with this one. Supportive pep-talks and cheering squads he could manage. Love advice? Not so much.

There was sputtering to Suga's left. "Who's cute?" Daichi demanded to know..

"No one," Kōshi replied sweetly. Daichi frowned. "No one, _honestly_. Hitoka-Chan's having a little wobble."

* * *

On the other side of the gym, Kōtarō Bokuto was having his own 'little wobble.'

"The baby bird said my hair was _soft_ , Akaashi," he whispered loudly, his eyes gleaming with pride.

"Uh-huh."

Bokuto titled his head, "Yachan's cute, no?"

"Mm."

"Akaaashiii! Are you listening?!"

"Sure." (He wasn't.)

(Akaashi Keiji was, instead, wondering if it was possible for a crow to fall for an owl they'd never even met before, and in such a short space of time.)

* * *

"Kiyoko-San, please help your protégé," Kōshi pleaded, trying to pry Hitoka away from his arm. While he'd managed to get Hitoka up on her feet again – mainly to save her (and himself) from the humiliation of being dragged around the gym while she clung to his legs _and_ the resulting friction burns – the girl was still a quivering wreck.

 _"Kiyoko-Saaaan,"_ Hitoka sniffled. She swiped at her teary eyes. "Kiyoko-San he's _c-cute._ I t-touched his hair. _"_

"Oh dear," Kiyoko snapped her notebook shut and adjusted her glasses so that they sat further up the bridge of her nose. "I had a feeling this would happen, but Hitoka, attractiveness is part of the reason I chose those three. It makes the job easier."

"It was s-s-soft – a-and he called m-me 'baby bird'," Hitoka whimpered.

Kiyoko's stern expression softened slightly in response. "That's because you are – and it's a major part of your charm. But remember, baby crows have fearsome parents, and one day you will be one too."

Hitoka wipes at her nose, humming in response. She felt stronger now.

(His hair _was_ soft though, and her fingers could still feel the phantom tickle of the spiky strands.)


	9. Fruitcakes Are Dense

**Heartbreaker? _Pfffsh..._**

* * *

 _Fruitcakes Are Dense_

* * *

Hitoka spent the majority of the first few days of the joint training camp (when not running around after the boys or carrying out her duties as a manager) trying to avoid being alone.

Since her little episode the other day, Hitoka had done her best to stick to Kiyoko's side. That included helping Karasuno with their equipment, preparing meals with the other managers present at the camp, not walking around once practice was wrapped up for the night by herself (even though the heat could be stifling at times and Hitoka wanted nothing more than to lay in the shade), and even purposely holding her trips to the washroom until someone else declared they had to _go._ She was shadowing her mentor in every possible way without it bordering on creepy.

Maybe it was a little silly of her, but at least if Hitoka somehow managed to get through the remainder of the week without incident, her bladder would be one of cast iron once it was over. Kiyoko was spartan and barely took bathroom breaks.

Hitoka had ultimately decided after all her mortification to postpone going after Bokuto. While she hadn't exactly ran that decision past Kiyoko, she felt that it was the best course of action for her own piece of mind – and what little remained of her frayed nerves.

For a start, how was she even supposed to 'go after' him? What was the goal? What did seduction even mean? She'd actually turned to looking up the definition on her phone; hiding beneath the covers of her futon to disguise the blueish light leaking from the low-lit LED screen. In the barest sense of the word, it meant to entice someone into sexual activity, and her face had steamed while she wondered whether Kiyoko really meant for her to go _that far_ with each of her targets.

She _couldn't_ have meant that. Right?

If that was the case, and Hitoka's virtue would live to see another day, then the multiple connotations that came with 'seduce' instead held the answer. There was 'attract', 'allure', 'tempt', 'beguile', 'enchant', 'captivate', and 'titillate' to name a few. All of those sounded less promiscuous than the first definition for 'seduce'; Hitoka could primp her appearance to 'attract' attention – she'd been doing so already with her lipstick. She could 'captivate' them, she supposed, with what Kiyoko referred to as her 'naïve charm'.

If gaining attention was all she needed to do to cross a target off her list, then Hitoka had done that and the same to others before without properly realising. She needed more clarification.

The first chance Hitoka had to speak alone with Kiyoko came around late evening. The other managers sharing the room with them had left already to use the baths; they'd all taken their toiletries with them too, so Hitoka and Kiyoko's talk would not be disturbed partway through their chat.

"Kiyoko-San? What did you have to do to s-seduce someone?" Hitoka wondered aloud, searching for her own washbag and towel within her overnight bag.

Kiyoko blinked. "Did I not tell you?"

 _No_ , Hitoka thought. She shook her head. _You didn't, and now I fear what your answer is._

"Well, my Senpai essentially told me attracting attention and flirting would come easy once I found my niche," Kiyoko's gaze wasn't fixed on anything in particular; it was as though she was lost within her own memories. "However, she told me that true attraction and the completion of my lessons would arise if I could get the targets to kiss me. Admiration and the reciprocation of flirtation can be easy to notice or mistake, but your target following through on the impulses you inspire within them feel is entirely different."

"S-so, I've got to get _them_ to kiss me?"

"Mm, though at times I wish you could have started with the easiest of the three."

 _Flirt_ , apparently, was the easiest. However, a seasoned veteran of stealing both young girls and boys' hearts would undoubtedly know if someone who approached them with a declaration of their feelings wasn't being sincere. And Hitoka would be quaking like a leaf trapped in a tornado should she have had to approach him first.

"What constitutes a kiss?" Hitoka found herself asking.

"The obvious would be to kiss on the lips, the cheek, or the corner of the mouth," Kiyoko responded with a wry, miniscule, twist of her lips. "Though you never know, your target could get… creative."

Hitoka felt her face heat, and Kiyoko chuckled. "I'm not sure what you're thinking, but by 'creative' I mean they could kiss your forehead, your hand, your nose, your neck, and so forth. Extra points if they hit an erogenous zone."

Hitoka let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

"Honestly, where did your mind go?" Hitoka wasn't sure, and she was definitely certain that it was no place good.

Kiyoko stood slowly from where she'd knelt beside her own futon, gathering her bath things. "I think it's time we joined the others."

Hitoka agreed. Who knew, if she scrubbed herself hard enough in the showers, maybe no one would be able to notice how red her face was if the rest of her skin looked the same?

* * *

Keiji Akaashi wasn't stupid.

He was a genius setter, just as Tobio Kageyama or Tōru Oikawa were. Unlike the former (and the latter too, really) Keiji liked to think he noticed more about the world around him. He could deal well with people, as standoffish as he was – hell, he dealt with the overgrown owl-child that was Kōtarō Bokuto on a daily basis.

If he and the others who played for Fukurōdani's Boys Volleyball Club could wrangle Bokuto, then the rest of the world would be a cinch.

Even lovesick schoolgirls.

Hitoka Yachi wasn't exactly a problem, but she could potentially _become_ one. Three days into the week-long training camp, and Bokuto had just about managed to stop gushing about her touching his hair whenever she came into view.

The girl had, admittedly, kept her distance; whether because the weight of her newfound feelings was akin to a pair of lead shoes rather than liberating crow's wings – thus keeping her rooted in spot whenever Bokuto hooted about something on the court – or because the thought of someone as meek as her falling for an 'overly enthusiastic' guy sincerely sent her into catatonia, Keiji couldn't be sure.

She'd grown sad and withdrawn though. Maybe she wasn't comfortable around guys? She seemed fine around her team, and they were plenty rowdy (even after losing all of their games so far and having to take on the between-match punishments every time). She clung to the other manager and Karasuno's Vice Captain a lot – whenever the latter wasn't playing, of course.

There was, however, one problem. Bokuto had started to pick up on 'Yacchan's' strange behaviour; how she flinched away from his yells whenever he landed a powerful spike, or how she darted after her team whenever practice was over. Keiji would see how his Captain's eyes would flicker over to her form (he had to look carefully for the action, as, for once, Bokuto was being discreet about something), and how his gaze would turn to disappointment whenever he found her attention drawn to others or her hiding herself away.

Hitoka Yachi wasn't just becoming a problem. She already _was_ one. Bokuto was _pining_.

But what could Keiji possibly do about it?

There were multiple ways to resolve this whole situation, though knowing and deciding upon what the best course of action was would be the most difficult choice. Would it be best to do nothing? Simply wait for the week to end and allow any potential feelings snuff themselves out over time? Should he push the two apart – play devil's advocate and protect them all from hurt? Or should Keiji draw the two together?

The latter came with its own risks. Should he watch Bokuto and Yachi to grow closer only for a relationship to fail then it wasn't just those two parties who were affected. Bokuto could go Pro if he wanted, and with his notoriety as a spiker that was a likely outcome in his future. Yachi had her whole life ahead of her; boyfriends could wait if you had studying to do. Failure could destroy both hearts and lives, not to mention team dynamics – Bokuto was a prime example of this. His moods were ephemeral, swinging between serious, pleased, and dejected within the blink of an eye or an uttered compliment.

If unrealised recognition could send him into a slump, then would heartbreak do to him?

Keiji sighed. Maybe he shouldn't meddle.

Still, it couldn't hurt to talk to the girl.

He found her later that evening, sat a short distance from the bathrooms. A towel was slung about her neck, and while she sat on one of the benches available she absently pet at the damp ends of her hair with the fluffy cloth. A small can of ice-cold juice rested on her knee, her hand wrapped lightly around the container. Dew from the metal exterior had dripped down onto her slender fingers. Her mouth rested open slightly; her expression openly dazed and distracted.

How come now of all times she was separated from her manager? Why not before? Why was it him here coming to talk to her? Keiji cursed his luck. Maybe he should have sent Bokuto on an errand, that way Keiji wouldn't be the one doing the confronting.

His hands listed through the pockets of his shorts; upon finding that he had enough loose change, he bought himself a cold drink and sat beside Yachi. She didn't notice at first, jolting out of her reverie as he pulled back the metal tab and his drink hissed in response.

"Akaashi-San? G-good evening," Hitoka stuttered.

Keiji took a measured sip from his drink. "Ah."

Yachi pulled the towel from her shoulders, placing down her can of juice (grape, or so the label told Keiji) by her feet. With nimble hands she folded the cloth and placed it on her lap then retrieved her drink. They sat in companionable silence for a while.

Keiji cleared his throat. "Do you like Castella, Yachi-San?" **(1)**

"I-it's not my favourite, Akaashi-San. I muh-much prefer Fugashi," Hitoka replied with a confused tilt of her head.

Keiji frowned. She wasn't getting this at all. Then again, maybe using food analogies wasn't his most ingenious idea. Perhaps animals would have served better in a hypothetical situation?

"Castella is a favourite among many people. I can understand, because it's lightly textured and not too sweet. But compared to something like fruitcake it's really kind of simple."

 _What on earth is he talking about?_ Hitoka wondered.

Keiji, looking directly into Hitoka's eyes, stated, "Fruitcakes are really dense." (Correction: 'Bokuto is really dense.')

Perhaps, if Hitoka would realise just how difficult Kōtarō Bokuto could be as a person – how messy and impenetrable with feelings relationships could get – she would leave well alone. Although, if she could understand and embrace Bokuto for who he was, then Keiji wouldn't have to worry about picking up the pieces.

Why was he even worried in the first place? It wasn't like Bokuto couldn't make his own damn choices in life. It's for the team's sake, Keiji tried to reassure himself. Just for the team.

"They are," Hitoka murmured back. She was confused, even as the frown lifted slightly from Fukurōdani's Vice Captain's face.

 _Good_ , Keiji thought. _She understands what she's in for. Maybe she'll back down?_

"I still like to eat them occasionally though," Hitoka continued, a small smile on her face. Keiji's face (though it felt as though it had set aflame) thankfully didn't outwardly show the embarrassment he felt at her implication. "Especially when they h-have the marzipan coating."

 _E-eat? She's not as naïve as first thought then._

He rose from the bench, politely bidding her goodnight. In his haste, he forgot his canned drink.

* * *

"Kiyoko-San," Hitoka began as the elder manager joined her after she'd finished in the baths. The elder manager had bought herself a complimentary iced coffee after her long soak and now sat beside her protégé on the bench.

Looking to the forgotten drink left at one end of the bench, Hitoka muttered; "Boys are _weird_."

"I tell myself that every day, Hitoka-Chan," Kiyoko demurely sipped at the tiny bottle of iced coffee. "Every damn day."

"I really want to eat cake right now," Hitoka mumbled, patting at her stomach – which, in return, let out a ferociously growl.

* * *

 **(1)** Castella (カステラ "Kasutera") is a really popular sponge cake over in Japan; it was brought over with the Portugese in the 16th century, I think? It's like Madeira cake (which is very similar), but back in the day it was very very expensive to produce because of how high the price of sugar was. Due to the longevity with which it could be stored though, Castella was incredibly useful for sailors. **  
**


	10. Lays-ese

**Heartbreaker? _Pfffsh..._**

* * *

 _Lays-ese_

* * *

 _'Wanted: One Spine',_ Hitoka narrates to herself in her head while hiding around yet another corner. ' _Preferably crafted from Titanium. Or even better, Tungsten.'_

Having a spine that came with a self-destruct option would be incredibly useful, seeing as Hitoka landed herself into many situations from which her embarrassment was still rife to this very day. Tungsten, while a strong metal in its own right, could shatter easily.

 _Perfect_ , Hitoka nodded to herself.

Why was she being so pathetic, one might ask? It all boiled down to simple aversion and weird boys, with aversion seemingly leading Hitoka into the paths of those she wished to divert around. And well, boys (as Kiyoko had sagely told her) were always weird. Though perhaps the summer sunshine made them even more so?

Heat could do funny things to people. Idiocy in the summertime could therein be some variant of heatstroke-induced delirium. The fact that she'd placed a lot of thinking time aside to that hypothesis stemmed from the fact that hiding around corners, in cupboards, and in bathrooms came with a lot of thinking time. Introspection was both a wonderful and terrible thing. The aforementioned had, however, allowed Hitoka to rethink her choices somewhat – and her plan of action – even if sitting or crouching in impossibly small spaces became tedious at times.

Hitoka was giving up; she had been sure of that for some time, even with the clarification of what she was to do with her targets from Kiyoko. She wasn't ready for this, and well – dare she say it – she could always cut her teeth on _Flirt_ first before she moved onto anyone else. He could at least give her a 'Wowser!' of a first kiss – you could always count on experience in that sense. Bokuto seemed like a really nice person, despite the hooting and the fist pumps and the fact that he could slap a volleyball with enough force to _tear away your upper epidermis_ should it hit you.

To be fair, Hinata and Asahi could dole out the same amount of damage, and Hitoka was only mildly afraid of the latter still. She was growing used to this team's quirks, and well, how could you be afraid of (terrifying, mafia-faced, mature) Asahi when Nishinoya had secretly braided his Ace's hair one morning when he refused to wake?

Hitoka, as the only one of the Karasuno managers to carry cutesy hair ties around with her, had been woken by Nishinoya and the disgruntled sleepy ramblings of those she was rooming with. Before they'd manage to wake her with their noise and by shuffling around the room, Nishinoya had been responsible for an impossibly early wake-up for all the other managers. They were all tired that day. Nishinoya had been disgustingly chipper; Hitoka had to wonder whether the tuft on his hair doubled up a rooster's plumage.

(Asahi hadn't noticed the bright pink bands in his hair until the majority of those present at breakfast had lapsed into indiscreet snickers. It had been cute to see; Hitoka was still shy around him though.)

Still, it didn't feel right to pursue Kotaro Bokuto in such a dishonest manner. It was too personal, and if Hitoka thought about the whole situation pragmatically, her actions undoubtedly could lead to a committed relationship should she play her cards right. While that would be an achievement in itself, a relationship with two remaining targets wasn't the best idea.

Too messy.

Too much pain should she become duplicitous enough to think flirting behind someone's back was doable; and Hitoka didn't have a duplicitous bone in her body.

Plus, while Hitoka couldn't be sure, it sounded very much like Fukurōdani's Vice Captain was giving her a watered-down version of the Shovel Talk™ the other night. Or a warning to stay away from his team.

She wasn't sure, but _hell_ did she want to eat cake.

While around teen athletes, it was always best to refrain from indulging in sweets – though Kiyoko had promised that she and Kōshi would take her to a café over the weekend for their next meeting. It could have been teenage insecurities – or just Yachi's own brand of insecurity – talking, but the managers of the other volleyball clubs were all so pretty and well put-together compared to her. Kiyoko, as per usual, was on another level entirely; but in a way, she didn't count. Hitoka had doubted whether any of them secretly snuck off to scarf some snacks until she became properly acquainted with one Yuki Shirofuku.

At the time, Shirofuku was likely introducing herself again to Hitoka, though the latter couldn't tell from the obscene number of snacks Fukurōdani's manager had crammed into her mouth. The manager and the manager-in-training stared at one another; one chipmunk-cheeked and the other with a face that could rival a stone statue's.

[You're Yachi-Chan, right?] was Hitoka's best attempt at translating the potato chip-muffled mumblings of Fukurōdani's manager. The garbled speech hardly sounded Japanese anymore, and Hitoka speculated whether it was possible for Lays to become a language in itself.

"Mm," Hitoka nodded absently. "Shirofuku-San?"

Shirofuku smiled a very gummy smile. One that contained far too much starch and slobber for Hitoka's liking. She extended out her bag of chips. "Want one?" Shirofuku asked, almost guiltily.

"A-ah no thank-" Hitoka was about to refuse, but her stomach growled. "Yes please."

She took a few from the bag, and Shirofuku settled back into eating once more. Their conversation was heavily punctuated by long chewing periods and the odd obnoxious _crunch_ that set Hitoka's teeth on edge.

"So," Shirofuku cleared her throat. "Why are you hiding?"

"Eh? I wasn't… I wasn't h-hiding? Me? Hide? N-no," Hitoka hastily shook her head. "You've got the wrong person."

"Ehhh? Well I've been here for ages. Long before you came and hid behind the trash can, that's for sure." Shirofuku scratched her chin, "Though I guess if you say it wasn't you, then I must have got the wrong person."

"It was me," Hitoka admitted with a frightened whine and teary eyes. Moving to stand closer to Shirofuku, and, naturally, the vending machine (which Shirofuku would feed more money into minutes into their conversation), Hitoka leant against the metal machine and covered her face with her hands.

Shirofuku was of the opinion that Hitoka must have been having a bad day, because _wow_ , how much of a pushover could one person really be? If she'd threatened the younger girl and forced an answer, then sure, snapping and blurting out a confession could have been justified. But this? This made her feel a little bad.

"Hey, erm, do you want another chip?"

"No but thank you for off-offering."

"So, why are you hiding?" Shirofuku tried again to pry an answer out of the girl. "Is someone giving you hassle? Because I thought Karasuno's other manager would put them in their place before they so much as looked at you."

Shirofuku seemed to have a good handle on Kiyoko's character already, though Hitoka could have been easily fooled that Fukurōdani's manager's motivations and fixations solely revolved around food.

"S-she would usually, but she's been teaching me how to… to sort my own problems better." That sounded entirely too vague, yet not as straightforward as 'I need to snog your team's Captain, but I don't wanna, so I'm hiding!'

Once more, Hitoka had to translate from Lays-ese. She was almost certain that Shirofuku had said [I can respect that] around a gob-full of shrimp flavoured chips.

Shirofuku coughed wetly, folding the empty packet down until it resembled a thin strip rather than a pocket-like rectangle, before she manipulated it into a secure knot. "Still, if something is bothering you that much you should probably talk about it."

 _Your Captain is bothering me,_ was what Hitoka wanted to say. "I will," was how she responded.

* * *

"Look, I think this whole thing is ridiculous and made up, and really can't you see how uncomfortable Hitoka-Chan is these days?" Kōshi had planted his hands on his hips and had stretched out his posture to appear more imposing. He hoped that his unimpressed glare – the same that had been patented by his own mother and passed down to him for use with the club – would get Kiyoko to reconsider her ridiculous seduction lessons.

Kiyoko mimicked his posture, tilting her head back so that she could easily meet his eyes. Her nose turned upwards snootily; the svelte point of her chin tilted skywards haughtily, and her hair brushed back over her shoulders like the office ladies you saw on TV with their hair scraped behind their heads into a severe bun.

"You have no way of proving me wrong, though I can assure you this is a time-honoured rite of passage for all of the club's managers. Though if you boys had stopped to pay attention all those years ago you might have noticed how I flourished."

"Why would we notice? We've all only just about started noticing things about people around us at this age – "

"This is why what Hitoka is doing is so necessary, it was also why _I_ did it. I wasn't always like this Sugawara-San. But I'd happily go through it all again if I could help in some way."

Kōshi snorted. "How is this helping? How is a training camp that's supposed to be fun for everyone involved – that's turning Hitoka-Chan into even more of a nervous wreck by the day – possibly _helping?_ "

His voice had risen by unbearable levels with his last interrogative (even though this conversation was technically supposed to be _hush, hush_ ), and Kiyoko felt no other desire than to walk away from their tête-à-tête. Or to hiss at him like a wet, angry cat. Kōshi really didn't understand, even after all this time; both she and Hitoka had been wrong to try and include him. Kiyoko eyed the notebook cradled underneath her arm.

Perhaps, though there was no weight to the book, if she hit Suga just right on the head then he'd forget the events of the last few weeks and she could help Hitoka unhindered. Kiyoko knew that Kōshi was just worried for the girl – he worried for everyone in his own special (motherly) way – but by hovering and not allowing Hitoka to progress on her own, he would ultimately hinder her. That was partly the reason why Kiyoko had backed off drastically for the last couple of days. She wanted to see what Hitoka could do on her own.

"Have you seen the way he looks at her, Sugawara-San?"

"What happened to calling me Kōshi?"

"Have you, _Sugawara_ - _San_?" Kiyoko pressed. Kōshi shook his head. "Bokuto-San is doing his best not to show it, but he's distracted. By her. Hitoka-Chan is doing so well, all without our help. I do not wish for either of us to interfere with her progress at the moment, but I still want to give her reassurance… I just, don't know how."

Kōshi, knowing that he was already losing the battle to begin with – and not liking how Kiyoko kept eying her notepad and then shifting her attention to his temples – sighed. "I get it. I do – honest," he added when she looked at him balefully.

"Then help me, please," Kiyoko implored. She wouldn't beg, she wouldn't stoop that low, but Kōshi wouldn't deny her help when she was in need.

"Who was the first person to really reach out to Hitoka-Chan?" Kōshi grinned madly.

Kiyoko nearly grinned right back. "Hinata-Kun."

"Then it's simple; we won't tell him all the details, just tell him Hitoka-Chan is feeling a little down and that she needs cheering up," Kōshi strategized. "It's might not be much to us, but he really connected with her in the first place."

"That might be difficult," Kiyoko murmured distractedly.

"How so?"

Kiyoko gestured to Suga's left, where Shōyō Hinata stood gaping with a volleyball clamped between his ashen hands. "Because he's overheard everything we just said in the last five minutes, Kōshi-San."

 _"Oh."_

Turning on her brightest smile, Kiyoko turned to face the shivering first year. Poor Shōyō didn't know what hit him. Kōshi took the initiative, stepping forward and dragging the ginger-haired teen deeper into their clandestine conversation. Although, it was more like he had to pick Hinata up like he was a decorative plant pot or a garden birdbath; setting him down between Kiyoko and himself where Hinata dithered uncontrollably. Kōshi shook his head; he'd been in this situation before, though it was Hitoka and not Hinata who had been stuck in the middle.

"Say, Hinata, how do you feel about helping us out a little?"


	11. Cin-cin

**Heartbreaker? Pfffsh...**

* * *

 _Cin-cin_ ** _(1)_**

* * *

"Hi-Hi-Hinata-Kun?!" Yachi yelped, nearly dropping the stray volleyballs she'd been collecting from around the gym. "Is… is something the matter?"

At this point, it had been established that both boys and girls were odd – the latter only so concerning their secretiveness, and their wiles which boys could never begin to fathom. It had been an age-old adage that 'Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus', but at the moment, with Hinata staring at her like some form of extra-terrestrial lab specimen, Hitoka felt as though it was _she_ who truly didn't understand anything at all. **(2)**

Gender had nothing to do with it, she supposed. People were just strange in general, and no one would ever truly understand another.

Hinata, who was only just taller than Hitoka, had slouched somewhat; it drew his eyes level with her own. His chin and lower lip jutted out, and to Hitoka it looked as though Hinata was holding back the apotheosis of all screeches. Those were usually reserved for successful spikes between Kageyama and himself, and the pair's disputes, though they would slip out randomly.

Hitoka really hoped this wasn't one of those random times. She hadn't brought earplugs or earphones with her on the trip, and if she dropped the balls she had collected in order to try and plug her ears it would be a pain to gather them all up again.

"Hinata-Kun?" Hitoka tried again.

"…" Hinata, if possible, jutted out his jaw even further – posturing like a particularly miffed crow. "Suga-San said you were sad."

Hitoka gaped. "I, um, I'm really not."

"He said you were sad about Bokuto-San."

 _I'm really, really not,_ Hitoka thought. "I'm not."

"Okay."

Hitoka wished with all her strength Hinata really meant that.

* * *

(He didn't.)

* * *

"What's made you sad, Yachi-Chan?!" Hinata shrieked, popping out from nowhere and startling Hitoka.

"N-nothing!"

* * *

"Hitoka-Chan?" Kiyoko called to her, and Hitoka welcomed the soft, soothing tone of the elder manager's voice. It made a change from the surprise-attack shrieks. "Are you okay? You seem a little… jittery."

Hitoka hummed absentmindedly in response. "I am. Hinata's… just… um… I-is there something wrong with him today?"

Kiyoko stilled. "Why do you ask?"

"He keeps ah-asking if I'm okay," Hitoka replied. "He seems pretty persistent."

"I'm sure he's just worried, especially if you keep deflecting. Maybe give him an honest answer?" Kiyoko was fairly sure Hinata only had two modes; 'silent-only-when-rendered-unconscious' and 'must-scream-to-survive'. Evidently, sending in Hinata to help (eavesdropper or no) had been foolish of she and Kōshi.

"But I… _did_?" Hitoka replied bemusedly. "And he still keeps, well…"

She couldn't really call it 'asking', because Hinata jumping out of literally nowhere and demanding (read: screaming) that they talk about their feelings was not normal behaviour. Although, for him and the rest of Karasuno's ilk, maybe it was?

 _I'm going to string Koshi up by his bal-_ Kiyoko seethed internally, smiling tightly at Hitoka.

"Boys are weird," Kiyoko bit out, lifting her shoulders in a dainty shrug. Hitoka nodded understandingly and went on with her tasks.

* * *

"Ya-Chan, you still look sad," Hinata jibed during dinner time. Hitoka, having been rostered for kitchen duty rather than the clean up which was imminent after the meal, had just got around to loading up her own plate and having a bite to eat.

Hinata had rice stuck to his cheek, and Kōshi's mothering tendencies must have been rubbing off on her because Hitoka longed to wipe the ginger-haired teen's face clean with a napkin.

"I'm really not-" Hitoka began, and sighed when Hinata cut her off.

"Ah! You sighed, you're sad!"

People were beginning to listen. Hitoka could hear them mumbling speculatively about her emotional state; whether it was that awkward time of the month subduing her, if it was someone harassing her, whether the harasser needed to be curb-stomped mysteriously in the middle of the night, and if that was sad baby birds looked like.

The first bite of Hitoka's dinner turned to ashes in her mouth. She could feel embarrassment creeping under her skin like an itch she couldn't quite relieve. Snatching up her plate, Hitoka shook her head.

"I'm not upset," she told Hinata flatly, before removing herself from the impromptu dining hall the schools were using for the training camp. Hinata watched on blankly. The grain of rice loosened its hold on his cheek, falling to the table beside his plate.

"Fix this," Kiyoko hissed to Kōshi, the two having witnessed the fallout happening.

* * *

Hitoka ended up eating her dinner alone, on a bench, backlit by the sunset while she tearfully shovelled rice and a spicy chicken curry into her mouth.

She wasn't crying. The sun was just in her eyes, even though it was behind her.

She was past crying over every little thing. Sure, teary eyes happened a lot (people were still frightening to her), but eyes that spilt or salt tracks down her cheeks were a thing of the past. The new Hitoka Yachi didn't cry; Kiyoko had encouraged her to be stronger than that. Eyes just leaked sometimes, y'know?

It was probably dust in the air. Or the spice in her meal.

She really wasn't crying.

It was stress. Yes. _Stress._

Stress was making her eyes leak.

Hitoka cursed herself for her weakness. She was better than this! Just the other day Asahi had startled her, and she hadn't 'Eep!'ed or flinched away from him. She'd shook a bit, and her tongue had felt like it had glued itself to the roof of her mouth, and he'd dithered too in response, but she _hadn't cried_ (like she was now).

Why couldn't Hinata just leave well alone? Why was he insisting something was wrong with her?

She was giving up, she was leaving well alone – and ever since she'd decided this, Akaashi-San hadn't been watching her the same. He had been giving her a warning, and Hitoka had done her best to honour it by flinging herself out of sight whenever Kōtarō Bokuto was around.

Hitoka had thought she was being fairly discreet about her need to hide whenever Fukurōdani were around, and Shirofuku hadn't given the game away. Hitoka had actually got into the habit of meeting Shirofuku there (when hiding); she made sure to bring her coin purse so that they could both partake in gratuitous snacking until they both got bored and there was no longer a need for Hitoka to hide.

Maybe she hadn't been so discreet then, and people were perhaps just humouring her whenever she dived behind a corner, a trashcan, or – as she had done on one occasion when caught between a rock and a hard place outside of one of Fukurōdani's gyms– into the bushes.

Hitoka still had scratches on her thighs from that one.

"Yachi-Chan!"

See? Even outside and lost in her thoughts (and the delicious sensation of that curry searing off her taste buds), Hitoka could still hear Hinata's shrieking on the winds. It was like an annoying echo or owning a budgie; as though he was going to haunt her every waking moment until she finally caved and shrieked back an explanation to finally acknowledge her issues. Perhaps mutual screeching was the best way to resolve this conflict?

"Yachi-Chan!"

Hitoka nearly shoved her plate of her lap on pure reflex so that she could hurtle over the back of the bench in some poor innate imitation of a scared woodland creature flinging itself into the safety of its nest. That shout had sounded off right next to her ear, and it was not a subliminal Hinata working its way firmly into her psyche like she had though.

Hinata was actually stood next to where she was sat.

"Yachi-Chan, don't be sad anymore, okay?" Hinata beamed. He had been clutching tightly onto something, and Hitoka leant back to see around the ginger-haired teen – he'd been right close to her face and blocked most of her vision. With minimal fuss (for a change), Hinata darted off, leaving Hitoka and Bokuto alone.

Hitoka dropped her spoon in horror. The noise it made when colliding with the floor was almost like the repressed scream she wished to unleash upon the world.

* * *

"Pay up," Kiyoko barked.

"You're scary when you want to be. How have we never noticed this before?" Suga mumbles. He'd actually jumped out his skin as she spoke; her tone swift and unrelenting like an irate teacher's. Or worse, a majorly peeved parent.

Kiyoko's smile in return was as sharp as a razor. "That is irrelevant, Kōshi-San. You owe me a drink."

"They've not even done anything yet," Kōshi huffed from beside her, a bit put out at how she'd manipulated the stipulations of their deal.

The elder manager and Karasuno's Vice Captain were currently crouched behind a large bush. After Hinata had dragged an amused Kotaro Bokuto behind him to try and find Hitoka, the pair had swiftly followed and hid in order to watch proceedings between the two.

Hinata had offered them a shaky thumbs-up as he left the pair by the bench, and it had been a tense few minutes while Kiyoko and Kōshi observed Bokuto and Hitoka's interactions.

Bokuto had sat beside Hitoka on the bench, encouraging her finish her dinner and gesturing to her blotchy red face. Hitoka had pushed her plate to the side, too uncomfortable to eat with him staring intently (creepily unblinking) at her face, and also, with her spoon on the ground gathering dirt how was she supposed to eat? Was Bokuto cheering for her to lick at her plate and hope for the best?

They'd talked, he'd shuffled closer to chuck her under the chin with his calloused fingertips.

Kōshi heard his breathing hitch. While the premise of these seduction lessons had been hard to get used to, actually seeing wooing in motion was a different matter. His hands itched for a volleyball he could serve straight to Kōtarō Bokuto's forehead for even endeavouring to touch Hitoka.

Kiyoko looked to Kōshi smugly. He was getting better at reading her minimal facial expressions. "They can't _not_ do anything at this point, Kōshi-San, and you did promise that you'd treat me if Hitoka or Bokuto made a move."

Hitoka had closed her eyes, leant her fragile jaw into his touch. Their noses were almost touching.

"But she hasn't even – Oh wait, never mind," Kōshi protested. "Wow, I didn't think she had it in her."

Hitoka had kissed Kōtarō accidentally _._ She'd also smacked into Fukurōdani's Captain's nose with some force as her head jutted upwards in shock. Enough force to provide him with a hefty nosebleed, or some discomfort for the following few hours.

"Pay up," Kiyoko told Kōshi sweetly, and though he grumbled he handed her the change in his pockets. She happily deposited it all in the vending machine not far away (the very same one Hitoka liked to hide behind, funnily enough), and came back with two ice-cold cans of grape soda.

"It's not the same as the pure juice, nor is it as classy as a wine glass," Kiyoko told him whilst popping the tab on her own can of soda. "But all the same Kōshi-San…"

She extended her can. "To Hitoka-Chan. _Cheers_."

Kōshi tapped it with his own. " _Cheers_."

* * *

 **(1)** Cin-cin, is the more formal way of saying "Cheers" (for toasting) in Italian.

 **(2)** I'm referring to:

Gray, John, _Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus_ (HarperCollins, 1992)

Not the best inspection of genders (especially as it is criticised for placing down atypical stereotypes), but the humorous title has on more than one occasion helped me to realise that maybe I do live on a completely different planet to the rest of the human race.

* * *

 **A/N [30/6/2018] :** Apologies for the later uploading time, I've had a really strange day today and not a lot of time to write/proof chapters. Errands are a major hassle, it's too _freaking_ warm (I've got sunburn for the first time in a decade… eurgh… ( **I WAS SAT IN THE SHADE – _HOW?!_** )), and would you believe me if I said we were celebrating my cat's birthday? (She's three now, btw, and destroying her new toy as I type.)

Plus, for some godforsaken reason, I decided to make brownies tonight. Cons: the house is super toasty even though it's _too **freaking** warm_. Pros: I have brownies now?

Anyway, general order should hopefully be resumed tomorrow. Thank you to everyone who keeps reviewing! It really does brighten my day.


	12. Bokuto-San's Unconventional Technique

**A/N [1/7/2018]:** There's now a link to the playlist for this story in my Bio!

* * *

 **Heartbreaker? _Pfffsh..._**

* * *

 _Bokuto-San's Unconventional Technique_

* * *

Hitoka, at the time, was unaware of Kōshi and Kiyoko's presence in the bushes. If she had been, then things might have proceeded a little differently. Things may not have proceeded at all. However, as it stood, Hitoka was blissfully aware of her seniors observing her movements – and Bokuto's.

"Are you going to pick that up?" Kōtarō inquires, gesturing awkwardly to the spoon that has just fallen from Hitoka's fingers and bounced along the ground. Hitoka's mouth pops open. She closes it uselessly. "Well, it's gone beyond the ten second rule, sooo…"

Kōtarō edges his way around the spoon, plopping himself down on the bench beside Hitoka. His arms spread along the back of the bench (she can hear his fingers tapping restlessly against the wood already), and she shuffles further forward off the seat so as to not lean back against him.

"It's totally fine if you still want to use it to eat though. I won't judge."

Hitoka does not pick up her spoon. Kōtarō just shrugs; tips his head back over the back of the bench, and then sighs. "Hey Yachan, why is everyone saying you're upset?"

"I'm not upset!" Hitoka blurts, and Kōtarō's face blanks at the intensity of her voice. Hitoka bites her lip, her face begins to colour with shame. Then he blinks, and a wide, impressed grin cracks across his face.

"That's more like it," he exclaims, clenching his fists and raising them skywards. "The baby bird's got _teeth_."

 _Does he mean 'beak', because I'm pretty sure birds don't usually have teeth?_ Geese had pretty wicked serrated teeth hidden within those cute bills. But those eldritch horrors – which Hitoka had the misfortune of seeing a picture of online once – weren't present in smaller birds at all. They hadn't been since the dinosaurs, thankfully.

Hitoka felt a little dizzy. Kōtarō Bokuto had the passion of an owl that'd been inelegantly shoved into a sack, shaken up, and which obviously wasn't very happy about said turn of events. Unless one opened the sack, you'd never know just how much raw power it contained, but in fits and bursts the impression of an owl would attempt to break through the woven hessian and violent wing beats could be heard within.

Hitoka shook her head. Thinking like that was getting her nowhere and Bokuto had lapsed back into awkward silence when she hadn't reciprocated to his exclamation – and anyway, shouldn't she be hiding in a bush or something right now?

Still sitting, Hitoka rocks her feet – _heel to toe, toe to heel, heel to toe, toe to heel_ – like a sprinter flexing their feet before settling into the blocks. Kōtarō Bokuto may be an athlete, but Hitoka Yachi is the _undisputed_ Chicken Champion; she'd outstrip him in a race whilst under the effects of blind panic any day. Just watch her go – she'd already primed herself to run hard and fast and oh so far away from Fukurōdani's Captain, lest Akaashi not be too far behind.

Hitoka didn't want to have to deal with him on top of Kiyoko's disappointment. The elder manager had been distant since their last in-depth conversation about Hitoka's targets, and the latter couldn't help but feel as though she were to blame for this prolonged absence. It hurt, honestly. There was a ridiculous quantity of self-inflicted pressure on Hitoka; paranoia about potential abandonment and being lynched by the opposition's Vice Captain if seen engaging in a taboo conversation really wasn't helping matters.

"Yachan," Kōtarō uttered worriedly. "You're crying."

" _Y_ - _your're_ _crying,_ " Hitoka snipped back pettily and instantly apologises.

Kōtarō shakes her uncharacteristic sassiness off, shifting on the bench to have a closer view of her (no doubt blotchy) face. "Why are you crying?"

Hitoka feels her lips begin to tremble. She tries to clamp her mouth shut, but it's no use – and there it is, the first of many ugly sobs and the catalyst of a streaming, snotty nose. She leans back as his left leg skims against her right one, placing her left hand out and pushing all her weight onto it so that she can lean far out of reach as he moves to swipe at the offending salt tracks trickling down her face.

"I'm not…" Kōtarō begins to protest, "…sure…"

"Is it me?" Hitoka shakes her head. No. No, it wasn't Kōtarō's fault. But, yes, it kind of was too. "Then what?"

"It's ah-a lot of things. I'm sorry," Hitoka dipped her head solemnly.

Even now, after all of the hard work she had placed into being better, it was ultimately all for nothing. She stuttered still, she'd developed a hide-on-instinct reflex around certain people and specific triggers ('Fukurōdani' being one of them and 'Set for me' another), and what else had she improved on other than being able to apply lipstick without looking like a clown?

Nothing, that was what.

This week had really exposed the so-called 'failings' of Hitoka Yachi's transformation, but she'd been so caught up in her flaws, what she was doing wrong, and giving in, that she hadn't noticed everything else that was happening around her.

She hadn't noticed people begin to _notice_ her, to speculate on her appearance and temperament. She didn't see them smile over her devotion to helping her club and caring for its members, nor did she realise how she'd unknowingly charm even the densest of people.

She also hadn't noticed Kōtarō's hand drifting towards her chin, and so she jolted in surprise when his fingertips met the smooth skin of her jaw. While her thoughts played havoc with her focus, she'd been unaware of how close he'd got.

Hitoka's head snapped up; forehead colliding with Kōtarō's nose with an awful-sounding _crack_ and then, accidentally, lips upon lips.

Kōtarō groaned, and Hitoka swiftly drew herself away. She fussed over him as he cradled his nose with his palm. It hadn't bled at all yet, which they were both thankful for, but she knew that when they'd collided they'd collided _hard_. Kōtarō would probably find his nose would swell later on, and that he might be in some discomfort tomorrow.

Then again, what did Hitoka possibly know about it? While she carried a travel-sized first aid box in the Karasuno's team holdall, and a few sports ice packs and pain relief gels should they be necessary, Hitoka didn't have proper training to administer medical aid to someone. (It would be something she would look into later, having seen Hinata get walloped in the face for the umpteenth time.)

Yes, there was some relief at Kōtarō not being severely hurt, but mostly crushing pain because that had been her _first_ _kiss_.

It was supposed to be this magical, special thing shared between two people who really cared for one another, and while Hitoka knew her own first kiss would be unconventional (because targets weren't exactly conventional in themselves, and if she couldn't bag them what hope did she have for a proper boyfriend?) she hadn't pictured whatever _this_ was.

Hitoka's first kiss had been on accident. An actual accident, in fact.

"We – we'd, um, better g-get you to a first-aider, Bokuto-San," Hitoka faltered. "Ah, um… Get your nose ch-checked just in case…"

"Crows all must have really hard heads," Bokuto chortled wetly, thinking of Hinata's lack of an obvious concussion even after taking a volleyball to the bonce. His voice sounded muffled and thick. "Eh? Yachan, you look sad again."

Hitoka swallowed harshly. Her fingers wove themselves together in her lap like the usually did when she was anxious and didn't have anything to cling to for comfort (other than herself, of course).

"That was my first kiss," she whispered.

Kōtarō didn't answer, so Hitoka looked up from her lap. His eyes were wide open – even more so than usual, worryingly wide – and though it was to be expected to be difficult to do for him, considering the bright red mark spreading across his nose from where she'd headbutted him, it didn't appear like Kōtarō was breathing.

"B-Bokuto-San?" Fukurōdani's Ace looked a little… lost. Hitoka bet that if she prodded him with a little force, he might just slip off the bench like an errant soba noodle.

"That was your…" Kōtarō had the same look on his face he wore whenever Akaashi or his teammates failed to acknowledge her athletic feats on the court.

Hitoka hummed. "Yep – bu-but I really don't mind, because it was with Bokuto-San."

Kōtarō whined lowly; his hands clamped down on Hitoka's shoulders before she found herself pulled towards him. "I can do better next time."

 _'Next time'?!_

With little time to process that thought, Hitoka's lips are once more covered with his. It is a soft and warm experience, and though neither of them really know what to do with their mouths they're making it work. Their kiss is simple, yet pliant, and she can see why people like doing this with their cherished ones.

Hitoka decides that while she'll look back fondly on the accidental kiss it won't count. This, right now, is a first kiss to remember. Only, Kōtarō Bokuto isn't her cherished one, and her stomach is churning and full of butterflies and elation simultaneously.

Hitoka allows her lips to part slightly the next time they meet Kōtarō's. There's an intrusion in her mouth. It's already warm just being next to him – Hinata must have dragged Bokuto from a short post-dinner practice session – but kind of sweaty, and now there's a new kind of heat being shared between them.

A flash of mortification shoots through her; if she can taste the sweat on Bokuto's skin and the heavily-tanged remnants of an isotonic drink, then can he tell what she had for dinner – despite having seen it displayed across her forgotten dinner plate?

Also, were kisses shared with a volleyball nut supposed to taste like volleyballs, or was that just a coincidence?

Something trickled down Hitoka's chin, and for a moment she panics over whether she's crying again. Or worse, if her nose is running. Yet when Bokuto breaks away from her, wheezing, Hitoka understands.

He's got one hell of a nosebleed.

* * *

"Okay that's it, let me go over there," Kōshi hisses to Kyoko, the canned drink in his hand is slowly become more and more dented as his fists tighten. Grape juice is already spilling over his fingers.

Kiyoko shakes her head, keeping hold of the Vice Captain's arm. "Leave them be, Kōshi-San."

"Can I at least leave then? Hitoka's done what you asked of her, but now I'm just uncomfortable watching this," he said. "It's like watching a washing machine's spin cycle for crying out loud."

"I will agree that Bokuto-San's… _technique_ , is unconventional. Hitoka seems to be –" Kiyoko cuts off as Hitoka screeches Kōtarō's surname and multiple inquires as to whether he's alright. "Let's check on them."

"Are you both okay? We heard shouting," Suga, having sprinted the twenty or so metres from the bushes to the bench Kōtarō and Hitoka were seated on, wasn't winded in the slightest. His speech was breathy and alarmed, however, giving the illusion that he'd run to them over a longer distance or with greater effort than he'd originally anticipated using.

Kōtarō couldn't hide his revulsion when Hitoka turned around. He veered back in shock, an accusation ready on the tip of his tongue. Just _what_ , exactly, had Kōtarō Bokuto been doing to their little manager in training?

"Hitoka-Chan," Kiyoko intoned softly. "You're bleeding."

Hitoka, to her credit, didn't look down at her legs (the most obvious – and dread-inducing – place to assume you're bleeding from if you're of the female persuasion and due on any day, because there's nothing more upsetting than finding you've bled through your nice undergarments and your favourite pair of pants).

"Ah, that'd be my fault," Kōtarō points at his chest with his thumb. "Nosebleed, _ow_."

"Argh! Bokuto-San, p-puh-pinch your nose," Hitoka commands, not at all worried about the blood smeared on her chin and streaking down her neck. "Tissues, t-tissues – we need tissues, _lots of them!"_

Kōtarō does as she instructs and momentarily blocks his bloodied nose from dripping any more. He then takes the hem of his blue Fukurōdani t-shirt, scrunching it between his fingers like a handkerchief and raising it to his nose. One sharp hoot through his nostrils along with a mega red stain on his shirt later, and Kōtarō can breathe easily.

"That's better," he states, ignoring Kōshi and Hitoka's horrified glances.

Kiyoko sighs. "We better go and clean the pair of you up."


	13. That Was A Hoot

**Heartbreaker? _Pfffsh_...**

* * *

 _That Was A Hoot_

* * *

Kōtarō, thankfully, wasn't too harmed by the ordeal.

Hitoka, Kōshi, and Kiyoko stayed with him while he was checked over by the nurse. They had to, otherwise Kōtarō would no doubt shake off any concern and treatment. The on-site first aider confirmed that nothing had been broken, and that with the application of an ice pack the swelling would reduce. The nosebleed had been the result of a burst blood vessel which had been damaged initially by Hitoka's head, and the later by an increased flow of blood – nothing too serious, just annoying and messy.

The first-aider didn't inquire as to how Kōtarō had been injured, much to Hitoka's relief, and had simply said that the vessel in his nose could have popped at any given time really. She really didn't fancy having to explain what they'd been doing; there was no shame in public displays of affection (within reason), but the rest of the teams at the training camp would all know about it within the space of an hour.

It was bad enough that Kiyoko and Kōshi had come to Kōtarō's aid. Kiyoko kept sending Hitoka knowing looks, and Hitoka had to keep on swallowing down her relief (and her guilt) and the fluttering feeling that Kōtarō Bokuto had inspired inside of her with his kiss. (She'd felt pretty for once and warm and wanted, but it was all false and fake…)

So, Kiyoko had some idea as to what she had been doing alone with Kōtarō – Kōshi too.

Hitoka closed her eyes tiredly. Was this what it was going to be like with the remaining two?

No nosebleeds or her inflicting injuries upon them, hopefully, but a hurtful growing attachment and an awkward air that would only stagnate should Hitoka not clear it between her and the target? What would Hitoka do next?

Kiyoko had made it all sound so easy; kiss them and be done with it. This was why Hitoka had wanted to chicken out in the first place! Hinata had dragged her into this new (and frankly, terrifying) world of volleyball, and she'd bonded individually with everyone on Karasuno's team. While that wasn't the same as kiss-stealing, the same process was happening right here and now with Kōtarō.

Hitoka was growing attached, so how was she supposed to say 'I don't really want a relationship with you, sorry we kissed' to him? If it was already hurting her to just think about it, how would it be in real life?

She had images of him relapsing back into his inert, bumbling persona and then she would have to call in Akaashi and the rest of Fukurōdani to pick up the pieces left behind when she broke Kōtarō Bokuto. Hitoka wondered whether they would successfully patch him back up, or whether it would actually be her who needed to be glued back together at the end of it all once Akaashi was through shredding her soul.

Maybe it would be better just not to acknowledge both kisses at all? There'd be no evidence save for Kōtarō's bloodied shirt the following day, and that could be easily rectified with a little hard work and detergent. With no reminders left, Hitoka could leave after the training camp and just never come back to Tokyo. Except for her other two targets.

(Should she just move abroad and have done with it? It would certainly be less awkward in the long run should she bump into her targets, say, ten years down the line.)

"Here," the first-aider gave Hitoka a few palm sized sachets to hold, keeping one for them self. They squeezed the packet they held, and a faint 'Pop!' could be heard from inside it. "This should be cool soon enough. Keep it pressed to your nose and use the extras if the swelling doesn't recede. Any trouble, just come and find me again, okay?"

"Okay," Kōtarō agreed.

"Bokuto-San, d-does it hurt?" Hitoka asked, clutching the sachets she held tight enough not to burst the sections inside that caused the cool reaction to begin. It would be a waste if she squoze them all in one go.

Kōtarō smiled down at Hitoka, bemused by her worry. "Don't worry, it's fine it's fine – seriously. I'm an Ace, I can handle a nosebleed!"

"S-still," Hitoka bit her lip. Kōtarō watched the action intently.

"I'm fine, Yachan," he said, chucking her under the chin like he had earlier on the bench. Hitoka felt her skin flush.

Kōshi, thoroughly done with everything that had happened this evening, coughed loudly. "Would you look at the time, we best get back to where we're staying before the others send out a search party."

Kiyoko, lightly (read: warningly) stepped on the Vice Captain's foot. Kōshi winced. "Maybe we should see Bokuto-San back to his team first?"

"Seriously, don't worry about it," Kōtarō said, plucking the spare disposable ice packs from Hitoka's grasp. "I'll see you guys tomorrow – last day of the camp, right?"

The trio from Karasuno bid him a goodnight in their respective manners; a misleading and trite smile, a squeak of alarm, and a polite – if reserved – murmur of 'Goodnight.' They watched as Kōtarō bounded away towards the direction of the gyms, no doubt to help with the clear up of the equipment inside or to collect his things.

"Well done, Hitoka-Chan," Kiyoko congratulated.

"One down, two left to go," Kōshi added in a sing-song manner, leading their way back to their accommodation.

Hitoka hung her head. "W-what am I supposed to do n-nuh-now?"

Kiyoko tilted her head contemplatively while she mused on Hitoka's next moves. "Be pleasant and civil around him, but I would advise against anything further. Not until you've completed the lessons."

"Wow," Kōshi muttered. "Way to make dating sound clinical."

Kiyoko decided to let that one slide, explaining simply that she would rather avoid any fisticuffs-at-dawn happening outside of the gym Karasuno practiced in. How would they go on with their daily lives and practices if Hitoka had three prolific volleyball players – each from influential teams around the country – fighting for her honour? How would Karasuno achieve their goals if Daichi, Tanaka, and Hinata all jumped at the chance to save the day when Hitoka ultimately fainted from target-overload and three of their team's best ended up with suspensions?

"W-when you put it that way," Hitoka murmured, stepping through the entrance as Kōshi held the door open for her, "It does s-sound bad for us."

"Ma, we'll worry about it once practice is over tomorrow," Koshi replied. His hand rubbed at the back of his neck, "I don't think Bokuto is one to kick up too much of a fuss, and Akaashi will handle it if he does."

 _That's what I was afraid of,_ Hitoka thinks, paling a little.

* * *

"Hey Suga-Kun," Yaku asked around a mouthful of onigiri.

"Hm?"

"That girl from Karasuno is acting really strange… Is she okay?"*

Kōshi followed the direction of Yaku's pointed finger, part of him already knowing what to expect as he turned his head. Sure enough, it was Hitoka. If he weren't eating, Kōshi would have sighed, loudly and then call out to gain the girl's attention.

She was wobbling around different barbeque grills and between incredibly tall players from the two teams she didn't recognise still. It had been safer to do that than to mingle with the Nekoma and Fukurōdani players like everyone else while Kiyoko gathered food for her own plate and settled in with the other managers. Hitoka could have tried to keep close to the guys from Karasuno, but they were all over the place too.

Nishinoya and Tanaka had joined forces with one of the Nekoma players – the one who'd mooned over her and Kiyoko – and untied to prevent people from bothering Kiyoko. Or to put the others around them off of eating. Hitoka couldn't be sure.

Asahi, Kōshi, and Daichi were all wrapped up in their own conversations or busy eating. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi were inseparable as always, and the former was currently being bombarded with extra helpings from the grill (much to his exasperation) by Kuroo. Kageyama, shovelling too much food into his mouth, had to be saved by Akaashi – and Hitoka decided that between him and Hinata, she would at that moment be better off standing by the ginger-haired teen than by a concerned Akaashi or Karasuno's choking setter.

However, when Hitoka had last seen Hinata he had been talking to Kōtarō and therein she had swiftly hidden herself in the midst of incredibly tall volleyball players in the hopes that they would mask her presence. It had been a mistake.

She was hungry, and thirsty, and they were all blocking the way to the grills. She was too frightened to speak up and politely ask them to let her through though.

 _This is like… The Titan's jungle!*_

Hitoka's knees began to quake, and when one of them – the Titans, that is – asked her whether she needed anything, she stupidly snatched up a charred piece of meat from the barbeque and stuffed it into her mouth.

The incident was instantly regrettable. It was, however, the price to pay for crippling shyness.

Over in the distance, Suga grimaced. "I think Asahi's got it covered," he told Yaku and Kai as he watched Asahi check on their dithering manager-in-training.

Well, he hoped Asahi had it covered. The rest of the taller players were converging; asking if she needed something to drink to wash down the burnt meat. Hitoka, trapped in the middle of it all, looked like a sacrificial lamb going to slaughter – and she was probably (if Kōshi was optimistic in his judgements of Hitoka Yachi's behaviour) thirty seconds away from passing out on the grass.

In Kōshi's opinion it should have been Kōtarō coming to Hitoka's rescue, but Fukurōdani's Captain was too busy trying to shove grilled meat into Tsukishima's mouth and snapping the metal tongue utensils he held like how a crab pinched its claws. It was that, or he was attempting a very poor rendition of some castanets.

Throughout the day, Kōshi and Kiyoko had not pushed Hitoka into speaking with Kōtarō. Interestingly, Kōtarō hadn't made a move either – and Hitoka definitely wasn't. He hoped that the pair of them would at least talk about what went on, but if Kōshi intervened then Hitoka (and by extension, Bokuto) would know that he and Kiyoko had been watching them.

It was creepy to admit that even to himself, and it would only demand more answers than Kōshi felt it was his place to give. If it weren't for Karasuno's own Team Dad's paranoia, then Kōshi would still be blissfully unaware to little Hitoka's seduction attempts. Though, could one call doling out bloody noses and unrefined French kissing alluring?

Kōshi wasn't going to be able to do his own laundry for ages.

How would an awkward talk between Hitoka and Kōtarō even go?

 _"Wow, that was a hoot!" Kōtarō would cheer after a supplementary snogging session with Hitoka._

 _Hitoka would be dazed and flushed. "Mm!"_

 _"We should do that again sometime, Yachan. Give me your number."_

 _"S-sure, Bokuto-San," would be Hitoka's reply._

 _Daichi, with his father senses tingling, and Akaashi – who had a sixth sense about keeping Bokuto out of trouble – would both be watching on with mixed expressions. Then Daichi would scream about Fukurōdani's Captain defiling his little girl-_

Kōshi coughed, a few grains of rice spewing from his mouth. Yaku pulled a face as some landed on his arm.

It was definitely better (and totally necessary) that Hitoka didn't talk to Kōtarō Bokuto _ever again_! Now all he needed some _serious_ mind bleach. Why had Kōshi even thought of that preposterous scenario to begin with?

Thank the heavens for whatever guardian deity (other than Nishinoya) keeping watch over Karasuno for the fact that they were going home tomorrow morning. The sooner the better, actually.

* * *

Unfortunately for Kōshi's sanity, Kōtarō did end up speaking with Hitoka. It wasn't in front of everyone, but their conversation wasn't exactly clandestine either.

With nothing less to lose, Hitoka had no issue with walking around by herself. Not having to avoid people felt pretty good.

She was parched from the salty barbequed meat, and her tongue still felt sore and tender from when she'd gulped down a what was practically a lump of charcoal. So, she excused herself from the room the girls were staying in and made her way outside to the closest vending machine.

She may as well enjoy a chilled drink in the cool evening air, right? If not for the sake of her burnt tongue, then for aesthetic purposes.

"Yachan?" Came his voice just as she'd collected her drink from inside the machine.

"Bokuto-San? Wuh-what are you doing out here?" Hitoka hadn't seen him on her walk there. He'd either come from somewhere else or had the same thought as her mere moments after she'd left the building.

Kōtarō scrubbed at his nose and winced as he caught the tender spot with the edge of his fingers.

"I came for some air. I think I ate too much," he said, slapping at his stomach.

It was almost like they moved instinctively, both of them leaning their backs against the wall while Hitoka drank and Kōtarō took in the calming evening breeze. It was nice, but it lacked a certain… spark.

 _Platonic_ , Hitoka realised. _That's the word I'm looking for._

"Yachan-"

"Bokuto-"

"You go first," he offered.

"No, n-no, you first."

Kōtarō smiled sadly. The owl-like plumage of his hair seemed to wilt a little. "I like you Yachan, but not enough to kiss you again."

Hitoka took a sip of her drink. It was too sweet a taste on her tongue to be appropriate for this bitter moment. "I understand."

She did. It would never work between them, and while her first kiss had certainly been an experience – while Kōtarō Bokuto himself had been an experience – Hitoka felt too guilty to monopolise his feelings and time anymore. He was target, and nothing else; this was what Kiyoko had meant by not getting to close and simply moving on.

"I'm looking forward to meeting Karasuno – and you – at the finals!" Kōtarō finished his sentence with a fist pump. "Hinata promised me you'd all be there."

Hitoka, though she felt nothing more like crying, smiled through her pain and confusion. She'd get past this, and who knows, Kōtarō might even become a very good friend in the future.

"We will be," she told him firmly.

* * *

 **A/N: You may notice some dialogue in here that was used for the subtitles in Season Two (those are marked within the text with an asterisk (*)). This is just a heads up that that isn't mine at all; I just wanted to try and converge canon with whatever I have going in the story.**

 **(Could you call this an AU of sorts that still follows major plot points, or is it a documentation of the subliminal dynamics and relationships within the serious outside of the standard team unit? I don't know dudes, my head is hurting and I'm running on about 3.5 hours sleep…)**

 **ALSO! I've never done one of these before, but there's a poll on my bio relating to this story. Check it out and cast your vote, because it'll be interesting to see the result~!**


	14. How Do I Fly This Thing?

**Heartbreaker? _Pfffsh_...**

* * *

 _How Do I Fly This Thing?_

* * *

The following few weeks of Hitoka's summer was spent inside the Karasuno gym, helping the team practice and refine what they had been trialling during the training camp. It hadn't gone so well for them there; they'd run up that hill more times than any other team – possibly more times than all the rest combined.

Stupidly, the guys (and by the guys, Hitoka meant Hinata, because who else had boundless energy?) saw it as extra training rather than a punishment. Straining your leg muscles in an uphill sprint probably wasn't the best idea, but somehow Hinata had pitched it as his muscles breaking down only to get stronger.

Perfectly imperfect logic from the ginger-haired teen as usual, Hitoka snorted quietly to herself.

While Hitoka had been in clubs before in Middle School, they were extremely dissimilar to the Karasuno Boys Volleyball Club. For a start, there was no sense of kinship, or even a unified spirit. Hitoka would turn up to her previous clubs, try her best not to cry when she and the other club members were given a task to complete, do her work, help with any clean up, and go back to an empty home.

She'd liked the activities in those clubs, and some of the people once she'd finally plucked up the courage to speak to them (and them to her in return), but that was all.

With these volleyball players there was a greater sense of belonging. Everyone had a purpose and a place, and if someone was in need then the rest of the horde would come to bail them out. The crows Hitoka had grown to know and cherish like an extended family were extremely protective, but that was okay. Sometimes.

She sighed for what had to be the forty-second time that day, and Tadashi all but flung himself into a crouch so that he was down and able to speak with her at her level.

"Is something wrong, Yachi-Chan?" Tadashi placed his hands on his knees to brace himself.

"No, no… I'm f-fine," Hitoka assured the teen, a little affronted that he felt he needed to crouch down at all. Yes, she was a perfectly average height and he was unnecessarily tall (most of them were on this team) but there was no need to go _that_ far. "It's kind of hot in here though."

Tadashi slumped in relief, though a look of confusion was clear on his face. "It is?" He said almost to himself. "Well, if you're alright…?"

He gestured to Tsukishima, who was indolently flicking his attention between wanting to start up another practice set, Tadashi and Hitoka's conversation, and the area outside the gym – the latter in the hopes that no one might notice if he made a break for it. Hitoka waved Tadashi off and returned to her tasks. Someone had to keep 'Tsukki' in line after all.

Considering that it was summertime the days weren't too unbearable. The air could be stifling with humidity at times, and rain was an unwelcomed weather pattern when all it seemed to be doing was rain, rain, and rain some more – but the days when the air was still, and the sky cloudless overhead, were great.

These days often came after the longest humid downpour; allowing the earth to dry after consecutive lashings of water. They weren't always the hottest of days either, though the soft breezes added to cooling everything down should the sun become to overbearing.

Hitoka couldn't get why Tadashi had been so confused about her suffering in the heat though. Her back felt clammy, and everything she touched seemed to be far cooler than herself. It was almost comforting for her to take a break and simply lean her back against the wooden panelling inside the gym; sweet chilly relief would spread through her t-shirt up until the point where her skin grew used to the cold, or when the wood would assimilate to her body temperature.

Was she sick?

Something registered in her mind, bothering her with possibilities until Hitoka resolved to go and make sure that said possibilities weren't true.

During the next break the team took, Hitoka excused herself to go and check her phone. She'd left the device in her backpack, the latter of which she'd also left in the clubroom-come-changing-room outside of the gym.

Consulting the calendar application on her phone led to a worrying discovery. Hitoka had completely forgotten about a very important starting date. She'd marked the last one off with an asterisk the month before, and then completely blanked the event from her mind what with everything else going on. A trip to the bathroom was in order, she decided, just to make sure that nothing had begun (or, if it had).

It had.

"Kiyoko-San," Hitoka hissed to the elder manager, just popping her head around the gym door after she'd made her way back from the bathroom. She'd had to improvise by temporarily placing a wad of toilet tissue in her undergarments. " _Psst!_ Kiyoko-San!"

"Hitoka…Chan?" Kiyoko queried bemusedly. "What are you doing out there?"

"I need your h-help," Hitoka looked off to the side. "Please help me."

Kiyoko, perplexedly, complied. Hitoka explained the situation to her in detail, hanging her head when she admitted she'd completely forgotten and that she was ill-equipped for today. Usually she kept a small pouch of supplies in her backpack around this time; extra sanitary wear, a comfortable change of knickers, wipes (in case things got messy), medication and the like.

"No wonder you feel uncomfortably hot. I'm afraid I don't usually carry things with me for this, but I'll see if I've got my spares."

"You don't?" Hitoka asked.

Kiyoko shook her head. "I'm on birth control, so I usually don't have to worry about my cycle. I keep a few pads on me for emergencies, or if my classmates need them, but that's it."

Kiyoko led the way to the club room, filtering through her bag and all it's pockets for the item she needed. "Here we go," she said, offering Hitoka a slim envelope-like purse. "There should be one in there."

"I usually don't w-wear…" Hitoka gestured awkwardly with her hands. "I use them t-tam… _eugh_ …" More awkward gesturing ensued.

"Ah," Kiyoko hummed understandingly. "I see. Maybe we should invest in putting a packet of each in the clubroom in future. I'm sure the boys won't bother too much with them."

 _I think your expectations of them are far too high_ , Hitoka thought dryly, before thanking Kiyoko for offering her some supplies. Toilet tissue really wasn't the best option, and Hitoka felt seriously uncomfortable now.

"Shall I go with you?" Kiyoko inquired.

Hitoka was about to decline the offer, because she was old enough now not to need anyone holding her hand when she announced she was going to the bathroom. However, something within her told her Hitoka to say 'Yes.' It was a good thing she did really.

"Kiyoko-Saaan, this thing has w-wings! _How do I fly this thing?"_ **(1)**

Several brusque instructions and some fiddling with the positioning later, and Hitoka felt far more comfortable. She still couldn't wait to get home though and swap out the provided pad with her usual brand.

* * *

Of course, the quest of finding comfortable sanitary wear never did run smoothly.

The first thing Hitoka did upon returning home was run straight to the bathroom, only to find the box of tampons in the under-the-sink cupboard was _empty_. Mores the horror, it had been for some time; a spider had fashioned a snug little web inside the box's cardboard walls.

Hitoka's mother, like Kiyoko, preferred to control her cycles; she was a modern, independent woman, and Mother Nature could suck it because Madoka Yachi had clients to meet with and a business deal to bag.

Hitoka took to manically rifling through her spare bags to see if there was one she had forgotten to take out of their compartments – much in the same manner as a squirrel forgetting where it had buried vital substance for the long winter – but her search turned out to be futile.

She would be okay for the night. Kiyoko had insisted that Hitoka keep the envelope-like pouch with her, and there were spares to last for the duration of the evening and perhaps a change in the morning if she could ration them, but Hitoka would eventually have to venture outside.

There was nothing to stop you from being a go-getter even though your hoo-hah was doing a great impression of Satan's waterfall, but Hitoka preferred to throw on her ratty pyjamas, eat snacks, and generally lose a few IQ points from watching trashy shows on the television, that was, if she didn't have school that day or if it was the holidays.

Most times she was just anxious about whether she'd leaked through onto her classroom chair and counting down the hours until her next set of pain medication.

The next morning, Hitoka emerged from her apartment shiftily. Her body temperature was fluctuating all over the place; the sun was already bearing down upon Miyagi's inhabitants once again, yet Hitoka was bundled up in the baggiest sweatshirt she owned.

It was long enough to cover the sagging seat of her leggings (Hitoka was loathe to get rid of that pair because they still clung to her legs really well), and the faded character from a well-known Western TV show (with a consequential string of movies following off the back of its success) displayed his flaxen-curled bear visage across the front. The bear's signature necktie, brown hat, and slogan were the only things not totally faded, though the white and red sections were cracked and beginning to peel up.

Not her best outfit choice by far, but simple enough to still be comfortable and not break away from the aesthetic Kiyoko wanted her to maintain should she run into any of her targets. Her hair was another matter entirely, and after a while of attempting to wrangle the blonde strands into their usual style, Hitoka gave in, grabbed the dry shampoo, parted it down the middle, and sectioned her locks into twin pigtails.

Her fringe, thankfully, had decided to lay flat.

Hitoka's pain was minimal for the moment, so she made a plan in her head. She'd left the apartment not hungry, and now her tummy was threatening to growl really loudly in public just ten minutes into her walk. Breakfast was first on the agenda. She'd also had an interesting conversation with Takeda-Sensei about English texts; the Volleyball Club advisor had encouraged her to look into some Shakespeare.

 _Macbeth_ and _Romeo and Juliet_ were usually the only two texts covered by teachers at High School levels, because they were the most well-known in popular culture; multiple adaptations and source material was available to students in all stages of academics, therefore it made sense to use them in schools. Takeda-Sensei had shook his head, an unusual look of disgust upon his face, and he had advised Hitoka to check out other titles by the great bard.

The library was on the way to the conbini – it was a dusty forgotten place that had been outcompeted by bigger bookstores in Sendai and internet sites, but helpful donations and the devoted elderly librarian kept it ticking over. Hitoka would stop by there and see if there were any others of Shakespeare's plays on the stacks, beside the stereotypical two, right after breakfast.

Then it was time for tampons and an armload of snacks. Fugashi if they had it. A litre of sweet, syrupy iced tea. Perhaps even a dinner for one, seeing as her mother was away on business and Hitoka had zero motivation to cook currently. She'd have to see how far she could stretch her money.

Her stomach yowled, drawing the attention of one middle-aged couple walking down the sidewalk past Hitoka. Grimacing, Hitoka clamped her hands over her stomach and bowed her head to them; the woman intertwined her hand with her husbands, using the other to smother her smile.

 _Breakfast. Just think about breakfast._

Hitoka walked faster, spying a café in the distance. Eagerly she bolted inside, not paying attention to who was in the doorway. Something scalding hot trickled down her right arm after she collided with a strong body.

"Ah! I'm sorry!" Hitoka bowed frantically, ignoring the stinging of her skin and the soppy coffee-scented mess of her clothing. Her head smacked into the person's torso, and she apologised once again.

"I am fine." Hitoka looked up finally and regretted doing so. "What of yourself?"

"Fu-fuh-fu—" Hitoka swallowed. "Fine. Y-your coffee though."

"It wasn't mine," said _Boulder_ , staring down at her with flinty eyes. "It was for my… _friend._ He should learn better than to consume excessive quantities of caffeine each day."

Perhaps then, if _Boulder's_ friend didn't need the coffee anymore, Hitoka could use what remained inside the tall take-out cup and commit death-by-Americano?

* * *

 **(1)** You can thank my friend for that one. She was in the same situation as Hitoka. I was Kiyoko.

 **A/N [3/7/2018] I'm off for my weekly recovery (read: crying) session. See you on [11/7/2018]!**


	15. The Egyptian Thief

**Heartbreaker? _Pfffsh..._**

* * *

 _The Egyptian Thief_

* * *

It was taking all the effort Hitoka possessed not to gape like a loony. She was still cowering before _Boulder_ – the one and only Wakatoshi Ushijima.

The polaroid picture Kiyoko had provided for each of Hitoka's targets, which in itself had been terror inducing, didn't do him justice in the flesh. He was huge. And scary. Scarily huge. Hitoka only just about made it past his hip for crying out loud!

How was she supposed to seduce someone like this? He'd snap her in half if he tried to give her a hug, and well, Hitoka really couldn't find the energy to appear alluring at the moment. She had cramps, she was pretty sure that her 'tamed' hair was sticking up already from the heat, her sweatshirt smelt of coffee, and she was hungry enough to gnaw her own arm off if she didn't get food sooner rather than later.

Ushijima cleared his throat. "My apologies for spilling coffee over you. Are you uninjured?"

"F-fine, thank you," Hitoka managed to respond with minimal lip-quiverage.

She wasn't fine, actually. The sweatshirt had been thick enough to counter any long-lasting burns or nasty blistering, but her skin felt warm and, peculiarly, as though it had been stretched as tight as drumskin. No doubt it was red and irritated from the incredibly hot liquid, and the way that the wet fabric of her sweatshirt clung to her arm didn't exactly help.

The café had a bathroom, so she could always rinse the coffee residue with the aid of the sink or place cooling wet paper towels on her arm. After she'd ate, of course.

"If you're sure," Ushijima said flatly, indicating that he wished to move past her. "My friend is here."

Sure enough, when Hitoka looked over her shoulder to across the street, a red headed boy was excitedly hopping from one foot to the other. For a moment, Hitoka wondered whether Kōtarō had snapped and died his hair red, or if he had been living a double life playing for two volleyball teams across the country all along. The faint yell of 'Where's my coffee?' could be heard from across the road from the Bokuto-doppelganger.

Maybe Hitoka needed her eyes checking as well as some burn cream. She was seeing Kōtarō everywhere these days.

Ushijima sighed, and though she was still deathly afraid of him, Hitoka insisted that she replace the drink. She was the one to launch herself into him. It was the right thing to do after all, but once he was gone she'd order a motherload of breakfast crepes and not care one iota if the other diners were disgusted with her appetite.

Hitoka wasn't actually sure if it was the close proximity to one of her targets making her dizzy, or the fact that she was incredibly hungry. Either way, this ordeal needed to be resolved, fast, before she passed out on the café's linoleum flooring.

"You did not have to do that," Ushijima was, once again, stating the obvious as Hitoka placed her purse back into the tote-bag she was using today. They were great for just throwing things inside, though not very secure.

"N-no, but I just did, s-so it's fine."

 _Why wasn't he leaving? He should be leaving?_ Hitoka was doing her best not to keel over. The sweet scent of fluffy pancakes covered in sugar, fresh fruit, and syrup, that another diner had ordered drifted under her nose as a café waiter walked by with them on a platter.

Thank the powers that be that there was a huge clamour in the café's kitchen at that moment, which disguised the impatient grumble Hitoka's stomach let loose. Hitoka gripped at the loose fabric of her sweatshirt, bunching it tightly in front of her. She'd already managed to have coffee spilt all over her, the last thing she needed now was more embarrassment or a way to extend their scintillating conversation.

"W-well, if that's everything?" Hitoka knew she sounded a little short. Well, as short as you could be with a stutter. She was too hungry to care.

Ushijima's face didn't so much as twitch. He rose an eyebrow at the sight of his friend – the red head – pressing his nose against the café's large glass windows though. The other teen must have found a crossing nearby, or perhaps had grown weary waiting on the other side of the road and just took his chance walking out into traffic.

Hitoka shuddered. Why would one want to take that chance and risk being thrown over someone's car bonnet? It was always better to wait at the lights to cross the road.

"Thank you," Ushijima told her tersely, before stalking outside with the replacement coffee.

Hitoka breathed a sigh of relief and turned back to the staff member behind the counter to place her order. Finally, it was time for food.

* * *

With her stomach feeling as though it was distended comically from the mountain of pancakes she had consumed – crepes had seen like the lighter, weaker alternative, and Hitoka had been tempted by the other café patron to turn down those pancakes – Hitoka pet the affected area beneath her sweatshirt fondly. She swiped at her mouth with a napkin, noting the way her lipstick had lifted patchily on the tissue.

It was time for a quick bathroom break and to apply some more. She was becoming quite the pro at mapping out the shape of her lips with no fuss or mistakes.

Luckily for her inside the lady's loos there was a small machine; one which you could deposit coins in and receive necessary sanitary supplies. Again, it wasn't her usual brand, but it had to be better than the aeroplane Kiyoko had provided, right? Things were looking up, despite how unbecoming she felt that day.

With her stomach full, changed, and her lipstick reapplied, Hitoka felt a little more human. Her arm wasn't sore, so she resolved to just place some fancy moisturiser on it once she got home. Nothing could be done for the coffee smelling sweatshirt however, so Hitoka would just have to deal with it for today.

Still, what were the chances of _literally_ bumping into one of her targets?

Uncanny, truthfully.

After the incident with Kōtarō, Hitoka wasn't sure how she felt about seduction anymore. What happened had been nice, but Fukurōdani's Captain had been right in his decision. They didn't like each other in a manner that could sustain a relationship, and Hitoka wasn't supposed to be entertaining ideas of relationships while she still had two other people to seduce.

The feelings had been there though (at least on her part), despite being built off of Kōtarō Bokuto's perfectionist nature. He'd kissed her the second time because the first wasn't satisfactory – because, in truth, he always had to be the Ace of the situation. It had been one hell of a first kiss, but again, nothing solid – nothing _real_ – could build off it. Hitoka still felt a little sad though, but took heed of Kiyoko's advice. She would have eventually had to have steeled herself for another target in the future and moping now would not do Hitoka any good.

However, Karasuno had only been back from the training camp for just over a week, and another target had appeared. Hitoka estimated that she had a couple of days to practice her poker face, just in case Kiyoko called another meeting about Hitoka's extra lessons. If the latter could get away without mentioning bumping into Wakatoshi Ushijima during the little pow-wow sessions, then it made her life easier. It would also allow a bit more time for the roiling feeling in her chest to settle.

Plus, a five-minute conversation and paying for a replacement coffee didn't constitute as wooing. Or so Hitoka thought. And it wasn't like she was going to bump into his any time soon. Sure, Shiratorizawa was situated close to Karasuno – Hitoka had been informed about the day Kageyama and Hinata had sprinted their way across town, followed Ushijima, and essentially tuckered themselves out for further practice – but there were a lot of people always passing through the area. The chance of encountering Ushijima again outside of anything volleyball related was low.

From what Hitoka could gleam from Kōshi and the rest of the boy's mutterings during practice, Shiratorizawa would be one of the contenders standing in their way for the Nationals. The fact that Ushijima had been cherry picked to play for Japan also suggested that Karasuno were far, far out of that school – and his – league.

 _That reminds me,_ Hitoka noted. _I probably shouldn't call him 'Japan'… and if I do, it's all Hinata's fault._

Hinata and Company had a knack for taking down impossible obstacles, but having met Ushijima face to face, Hitoka wasn't sure how Karasuno would fare against the aforementioned's team. Or how well she'd manage to seduce someone who's face hardly moved in all the time she'd been talking with him.

She'd have more luck trying to get a brick wall to blush.

Hopefully Hitoka would have bagged _Flirt_ or gained a little more confidence before she encountered _Boulder_ again.

* * *

Coincidentally, the universe had it out for Hitoka Yachi.

She'd walked the short distance to the crossing, switched to the other side of the street, meandered through a sparse throng of people on her way to the bookstore, and sighed in relief when said bookstore welcomed her with refreshing air conditioning.

Hitoka smoothed down her fringe self-consciously. The coffee-scent had begun to whiff a bit under the influence of the midday sun, and people were beginning to notice the pong.

Trawling through the stacks, Hitoka found the bookshelves labelled 'Drama' and 'Classics'; Shakespeare had to be present in either, she'd guessed. She knelt on the floor to better see the bottom shelf – in the classic section, because although plays could be classed as 'Drama', this store thought it meant the genre over the type of text.

Hitoka ran her fingers over the spines over the books present. Luckily, they were alphabetical, and finally her index finger stopped upon _Twelfth Night_. Withdrawing it from the shelf, Hitoka flipped the book open; bypassing the introduction and going straight to Act One.

"'If music be the food of love, play on'?" She mumbled, quoting a character – Orsino's – lines.

"'Give me excess of it; that surfeiting, the appetite may sicken, and so die.'" Continued a familiar voice, and Hitoka stiffened. **(1)** Her head turned slowly to look over her shoulder. There was Wakatoshi Ushijima. Again.

Would Hitoka ever be rid of him today?

"You enjoy Shakespeare?" One of Ushijima's brows lifted sceptically, as if judging her for her novelty hair ties, worn sweatshirt, and general air of someone not all that interested in foreign literature.

"J-just looking into it," Hitoka replied. "I'm not… not familiar with uh-other plays, so…" She shrugged.

 _Twelfth Night_ , after her discussion with Takeda-Sensei, had been one of the plays Hitoka had been interested in reading. The ones taught in school were dreary, so comedy and a bit of romance – however bamboozling – would be a bit of a change. Why would Ushijima know it though? Wasn't he more suited to _Hamlet_ or _King Lear_?

Her confusion must have read on her face, because Ushijima coughed. Was he acting… shy?! "It's one of my favourites. The love that the characters feel for one another is fierce and powerful."

"And you… like power?"

"I am used to it. I prefer to have control, or to take charge of my situation – much like Orsino." He gestured to the book Hitoka held.

 _Looks like it_ , _too,_ Hitoka thought blithely. She shuffled uncomfortably on her knees, wobbling to her feet and grabbing onto the bookshelf to stabilise herself. A hand shot out to steady Hitoka, and she uttered a quick 'thank you' as Ushijima's hand clamped onto her scalded shoulder; she hoped that her face didn't scrunch up in irritation as her tender skin complained about the brief contact.

Ushijima frowned and withdrew his hand. His lips parted slightly, before thinning into a flat line once more. "'Why should I not, had I the heart to do it, like to th' Egyptian thief at point of death, kill what I love — a savage jealousy that sometimes savors nobly.'" **(2)**

"Oh, um," Hitoka uttered dumbly. _What does that even mean?_

They regarded one another for a few moments, neither really knowing how to follow up from that. Then, Ushijima stiffened. A cackle could be heard across the store, and the teen beside Hitoka pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"I left Tendou and his coffee with the Manga. I must go."

He left before Hitoka could murmur a goodbye, though maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. She saw neither Ushijima or his friend as she looked around the store for a few other bits and bobs, or when she paid for her things. Things naturally liked to occur in threes; twice was a coincidence, but three was a pattern of course. Rhetorics usually listed things in threes for emphasis. Bad things happening in the world liked to pile up on top of one another – one, two, and _there!_ three – but maybe Hitoka was just being overly paranoid that she'd be seeing Wakatoshi Ushijima again soon.

Honestly, the world couldn't hate her _that much_.

Right?

* * *

 **(1)** Shakespeare, William, _Twelfth Night_ (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008), (1.1.1-3) p.85

 **(2)** ^(5.1. 113-15), p.206 : Essentially, Orsino is saying 'Maybe I should kill the woman I love before I die so that no one else can love her? I'm kind of (read: very) jealous (and controlling), but sometimes that's needed. Because I really love you.' But it kind of backfires on Orinso (he treats it as a petty act of revenge, until Cesario's true identity is revealed.) I can kind of picture Ushiwaka being a closet romantic, but it coming across as creepy or obsessive when all he's trying to do is express himself. Unfortunately, I also see him as the type of closet romantic who constantly puts his foot in his mouth. Whoops.

( _Twelfth Night_ is my favourite play, if you couldn't tell...)

 **A/N [11/7/2018]:**

 **Apologies for the later update time, things are kind of all of the place for me right now. Returned home from hospital – having left my Dad there overnight for some surgery the following morning – so I'm shattered, shaky from not eating all day, and really not in the mood for writing. Chapter 15 and 16 are complete, but until things settle down or I find a quiet moment to sit and just type like a maniac I can't say for certain when following updates will come.**

 **Hopefully, I won't be off track for long, and thank you for understanding. As I've already mentioned, writing/updating may give me a bit of a reprieve from the stress.**

 **Right-o. I'm off to have a well-deserved brew and a round of toast. Night, or well, happy whatever-time-it-is-with-you!**


	16. Dead

**Heartbreaker? _Pfffsh..._**

* * *

 _Dead™_

* * *

It was nearing mid afternoon now, and Hitoka was beginning to flag a little. All she wanted to do now was grab her tampons, an armful of snacks, pay for everything, and then run for the hills.

And by hills, she meant her bedroom.

She'd probably superseded the time for her to retake her pain meds but had forgot to bring them in her bag even though she faintly remembered chucking them inside the tote. Then again, it was entirely possible she'd not done so in the first place, or that the items inside the bag were concealing the packet of tablets.

Hitoka was growing too weary to check through her bag again.

Her mind drifted to the Karasuno Boys Volleyball Team as she filled a small shopping basket with her necessary items. Embarrassingly, the basket didn't seem big enough to hold all of the snacks she had chosen as well as the necessary feminine supplies she'd ventured outside for that day.

Hitoka placed the packet of tampons under her arm securely, wishing she could bury their presence under the bags of chips, sweets, and the wrapped fugashi she'd collected walking down the isles of this convenience store. She was close to the medical supplies – just one isle over from where she was situated in the personal hygiene section.

Hitoka had taken to keeping track of the medical supplies within the team's first aid kit; it needed topping up frequently with bandages, bruise creams, and antiseptic wipes. There had been a disturbing trend of volleyballs being lobbed at high velocity into faces recently during practices, resulting in many swollen cheeks, lumps on the boys' heads, and friction burns on the exposed skin of their arms and lower legs. Nishinoya was particularly susceptible to the latter, having to dive about for crazy receives and making harsh contact with the gym's sprung floor.

Maybe it was a good idea to pick up a few disposable ice packs, if she could get them, like the ones the first aider had given to Bokuto at the training camp? Nishinoya would be thankful, Hitoka supposed, as well as anyone else who received a volleyball to the face after one of Hinata's disastrous serves.

Disposable icepacks it was then.

Hitoka clamped her arm tighter to her side, feeling the box of tampons crinkle slightly. How she wished there was room in her basket. Then again, if she shuffled a few things around maybe there would be more room and she wouldn't have to panic about potentially dropping the box in front of strangers? She grabbed the box from under her arm and held it securely in her palm with talon-like fingers, while she rifled underneath and through the other items in her basket.

Admittedly, taking her eyes away from where she was supposed to be walking and becoming distracted by trying to stack slippery plastic-wrapped goods on top of each other, hadn't been Hitoka's best idea.

She rounded the corner to the medical isle, taking a few strides before she solidly smacked into something. Hitoka bounced – _bounced –_ back away from the offending obstacle; both she and her basket landing in a heap on the floor.

That, Hitoka could live with, but unfortunately proceedings hadn't stopped there.

Hitoka had flung out her left hand to steady herself as she fell, and the box of tampons flew out of her grip as though propelled by rockets. Whatever – though Hitoka at the time was betting on it being a 'whoever' – she had hit initially had stooped somewhat to held her up, but the box of sanitary wear had rocketed towards them.

Hitoka heard a thud, and a short groan. She'd just beaned someone on the head with tampons.

She wanted to die, there and then. For the ground to swallow her up like she'd wanted it to do the last time she'd had an awkward conversation with Daichi. It wasn't to be though, and she'd have to move from the floor sometime.

A flash of horror struck through Hitoka's body at what – who – she might have bumped into, and with great reluctance she opened her eyes.

"Are you alright?" A familiar voice asked her.

Hitoka felt her lip begin to quiver for the umpteenth time that day. "I'm oh-okay."

* * *

Kiyoko attempting to politely smother her laughter with her hands was somehow even worse than the third year openly chortling in Hitoka's face.

"I'm sorry, Hitoka-Chan," Kiyoko giggled, "But it's just so funny. I can't believe that happened to you all in one day."

Hitoka had unsuccessfully held her poker face for all of half a day; she'd fidgeted her way through morning practice, successfully evaded Kiyoko at breaktime, but hadn't been so lucky at lunch. The third year had sought her out especially, even though Hitoka had tried to hide amongst the others queuing to use the vending machine.

"Hitoka-Chan, are you free for another meeting this evening?" Kiyoko had asked. "Only, I'm not sure where we can go to speak privately."

Kiyoko explained that her parents were fairly invasive about who she brought home – hence why the house had been empty whenever Hitoka and Kōshi visited – and Hitoka agreed that her own place wasn't ideal at the moment. Her mother had returned home late on the day when Hitoka ran into Ushijima thrice, more stressed than usual.

A client had commissioned more than Madoka had bargained for, but Hitoka's mother was as stubborn as she was professional. Even if it meant working through the night for a week, she'd complete what was asked of her. For Hitoka, this meant being as quiet and undemanding as possible; she'd sneak past the partition of her mother's makeshift office and leave steaming cups of coffee on the latter's desk. When Hitoka returned a short while later, the cups would always be half empty and stone cold.

With the drinks Hitoka would sometimes leave snacks; small things her mother could nibble on intermittently that wouldn't distract her from her work. At least she was eating and drinking this time (this kind of work schedule had occurred before, and Hitoka had learnt the hard way that she'd have to force breaks onto her parent.)

Kiyoko had tapped her chin with her index finger thoughtfully. "I'll have a word with Kōshi-San then. Perhaps he'll house us for a couple of hours?"

Now, sat stiffly in the corner of his room on his knees – hands fisted and near-glued to his thighs, a constipated expression, and a bead of sweat dribbling down his temple – Kōshi Sugawara could recall he'd expressed absolutely no consent for the go-ahead of this meeting happening in his room. In his mind, Kiyoko Shimizu had blackmailed and extorted her way inside with that killer saccharine smile – and to make matters worse, he'd crumpled in defeat like a wet piece of paper.

Kiyoko was all giggly now (despite her earlier actions), but Hitoka had the right to look shamefaced. However, neither of them had to face the torment of a nosy mother once they'd left. No, that was Kōshi's fate alone.

A knock sounded on his bedroom door, and Kiyoko dampened her tittering.

"Kōshi? I'm coming in." It was his mother, no doubt doing something 'nice' like bringing them snacks as a cover for secretly nosing in. It wasn't every day that Kōshi Sugawara brought girls – cute one's at that – home. He was amazed he'd been allowed to shut his bedroom door at all.

Naturally his mother wanted to experience it alongside him; playing hostess, gathering blackmail material to share with her husband, making sure that whatever the three were doing in his room wasn't anything… well, actually, it might be best to encourage a little deviancy. Kōshi was such an angel most of the time, but Sugawara-San knew he could prove to be a charmer like her husband. Maybe he'd picked up her own coquettishness?

"There's a few snacks and some glasses for the juice you bought, Shimizu-Chan," his mother said, placing the tray on the top of Kōshi's cluttered desk. Two girls in his room and he hadn't even bothered to tidy, honestly. Subtly Sugawara-San shook her head. "Have fun with whatever it is you're doing – just don't do anything I wouldn't do!" She finished with a wink, seeing herself out.

"Okaa-San!" Kōshi sputtered, colour blooming on his face.

Kiyoko broke out into another peal of laughter, Hitoka not managing to hide her own smile. Kōshi huffed, stomping to his feet and reaching for the tray. He set it down between the three of them, pouring measures of the customary grape juice into the glasses his mother had placed on the tray.

"To think you'd run into Japan three times though," he said, placing a lot of emphasis on this topic and not his embarrassing parents.

"Yes," Kiyoko agreed, taking a sip from her juice immediately after Kōshi had handed her her glass. "It's uncanny really – and you hit him in the head with tam-"

"AaAaah! D-don't remind me!" Hitoka yelped, nearly spilling her juice over her lap as she frantically waved her arms about.

Kiyoko quirked her eyebrows. "Still, you work fast Hitoka-Chan. It's only been over a week since the training camp ended. I had no idea you'd be back to going after your targets so soon."

Hitoka hadn't the heart to tell Kiyoko that she didn't want to – nor had she intended – to go after Wakatoshi Ushijima the other day. He'd been fairly understanding even after the box had clocked him square on the forehead; he'd even helped her up off the floor and stretched lethargically to the top shelf with his ridiculously long arms when Hitoka found she couldn't quite reach the disposable ice packs.

His face might be terror inducing, but Hitoka had discovered a softer, gentlemanly side to Ushijima. She didn't quite understand his fascination with Orsino though, even after reading through the first three acts of _Twelfth Night_ while intermittently caring for her mother. Hitoka would much prefer to be like Olivia or even Maria; enough gumption and wit to outsmart those around them and to live independently yet retaining a fondness for romance. None of this 'killing what you loved' business.

 _To each their own,_ Hitoka thought.

"Still Hitoka-Chan, have you decided what to do with the photographs of your targets yet?" Kiyoko asked. Hitoka's mind supplied the memory of Kiyoko suggesting she cross them out with lipstick, but to her it seemed messy and, well, a bit of a waste of makeup if she was honest.

Hitoka had thought about just blotting them out with something; cute stickers, or a bingo dabber should one big enough be available – not a marker pen, they were far too opaque. The idea was to show the fact that she'd touched upon a target's life, or so Hitoka supposed, not to blot them out entirely. Call her sentimental, but once this was over and done with maybe it would be nice to see their faces at a later date.

Then again, would she want to see their faces afterwards? Feasibly, an impromptu bonfire was instead the answer.

Hitoka shook her head. "I don't know… I… I mean, I could always write the date on the back of the picture or some-something?"

Kiyoko brightened. "That sounds like a good idea."

If one asked Kōshi's opinion – and no one had – this was a stupid idea. Like Hitoka, he was of the same frame of mind to burn everything and leave nothing behind concerning this ridiculous scheme. He took a handful of snacks from where his mother had arranged them neatly on a plate and shoved them somewhat forcefully into his mouth; chewing was something to distract him from Kiyoko and Hitoka's conversation. It was evident he was being used for his bedroom rather than his insight onto the average teenage boy's mind – though calling Hitoka's targets average boys was a bit of a stretch.

"Just burn them," Kōshi said evenly (which surprised him), having had to listen to Kiyoko rattle off a few overzealous options, one of which included a scrapbook.

"How could you say that?" Kiyoko protested quietly. "This is something to be cherished-"

"Sooo, you've still got pictures of your targets hanging around from two years ago, huh? Was it anyone we played?" Kōshi smiled, all teeth.

"That's beside the… Well," Kiyoko ducked her head. She adjusted her glasses to sit further up the bridge of her nose, but both Kōshi and Hitoka saw the action for what it was. Kiyoko was stalling for time before she answered. Finally, she said in a small voice; "I may have misplaced them."

Kōshi's own mocking laughter eclipsed Hitoka's tentative mirth.

Downstairs, Sugawara-San smiled. The trio's laughter, ricocheting down the halls to where she sat in the living room, was infectious. Whoever they were to Kōshi, those girls were making her son smile – honest smiles at that. She was proud. Still, Sugawara-San had expected racier blackmail material and stories to regale her disbelieving husband with. There was still time though; she'd have to encourage Kōshi to bring them home more often.

* * *

 **A/N [12/7/2018]:**

Thank you to _squirrel1464_ for their review! You'll probably get 'Flirt' right too, I feel like I'm being fairly predictable (hopefully my comedy isn't...) I was replying to a reviewer on AO3, and I agree that Boulder-Bard should be a thing. Honestly, I'm not really super-familiar with these characters, so I feel like I'm exaggerating known traits and pulling the rest out of thin air, haha. Awkward Shakespearean recitals must ensue in later chapters though.

Thanks to everyone for understanding about the whole situation. My Dad has had his surgery and is thankfully all well. Hopefully he'll be home soon - fingers crossed!


	17. Close Encounter

**Heartbreaker? _Pfffsh..._**

* * *

 _Close Encounter_

* * *

The next few weeks passed with nothing out of the ordinary occurring. At least, for Hitoka, anyway. The Karasuno team could never be considered 'ordinary', and therein nothing the team did as a whole ever conformed, nor went as smoothly as it could.

It was just the Karasuno way. One would do better to accept it for what it was and then move on with your life; there was no explaining the team's dynamic, behaviour, or their motivations. Karasuno just _were_ , and Hitoka was so glad she was a part of that.

Still, debateable normalness aside, things had been quiet at the club's practices. The anticipation for the next few crucial matches were driving the boys onwards to be better. There were still light-hearted moments, and a little silliness, but both managers, Coach Ukai, and even Takeda-Sensei had noted the brewing determination silently simmering amongst the team.

Karasuno were ready to play their way straight to the nationals; their wings were desperate to fly – feathers no longer clipped, and a tangible longing to soar high above whatever opposing teams stood in their way, was almost visible to the human eye.

Things had got better for Hitoka at home for a short while. Her mother had completed her latest project within a few days – at the expense of her well-earned sleep – and while her business profited from her efforts, Madoka only had deep, dark bags under her eyes to show for it.

"It's nothing a little concealer won't cover," she told Hitoka when the latter expressed her concern – though, in Hitoka's defence her mother had nearly spilt scalding hot coffee over her legs during breakfast.

The Yachi family had received a week of relaxation. Madoka had hardly any projects going on, so she worked from home most days. Then, as it often does, life became more hectic. The same client who had demanded work with an incredibly short turnaround had been so impressed with what had been produced, that they had commissioned even more work from Madoka's company.

More sleepless nights ensued, for both Madoka and her daughter. (Hitoka found it hard to rest when she could hear someone shuffling around in the other room, and she disliked falling asleep with headphones or ear plugs in.)

It came to the point where, tired and frustrated with being stuck in a home she couldn't relax in, Hitoka had had enough.

"I-I'm going to go out for a bit, I think," Hitoka informed her mother as she placed a plate of sliced toast and a steaming hot drink on the aforementioned's desk. Hitoka had been awake for an hour at that point on Sunday morning, and for her it was still rather early.

Her mother had been typing even before Hitoka had left her room – and it looked as though from the state of her pyjamas that Madoka hadn't left her desk at all. The last Hitoka had seen of her on Saturday night before trying to sleep, Madoka had changed for bed herself. At some point between Hitoka closing her bedroom door and the next morning, Madoka had resituated herself back in her make-shift office and had picked up work again.

Hitoka jumped as her mother's voice broke the air. Her words were slow and calculated; she was trying to focus on her work before anything else. "Do you need any money?"

"I should be… be okay," Hitoka replied.

She had enough in her purse to top up her train pass should she need it, and some of her allowance that didn't go to buying school lunches stashed away in her sock draw. She'd make sure to pull a few notes from that store and slip them in to her purse just in case of an emergency.

Madoka grunted, her fingers clicking fervently over her keyboard and on her mouse. Her hands, wrists, and attention would not idle until her task was done. Or until she passed out from lack of sleep. Hopefully it wouldn't be the latter.

With her mother informed and agreeable to Hitoka's plans for the day, Hitoka's next move was to muster up the motivation to _actually_ go out. It would be very easy just to try and put up with the cabin fever she felt gnawing at her emotions, because it would mean she got to stay in her pyjamas all day.

Nonetheless, going out and doing something would help relieve her agitation better than pacing around the short confines of her room.

But where to go?

Sendai wasn't too far away, and the train services were reliable. Hitoka wasn't really in the mood for shopping though, and that was one of the main reasons she ever travelled to that city. There were, however, other drawing points to Sendai outside of it's superior shopping complexes and bustling community. It held a large observatory and planetarium, after all.

It had been a while since Hitoka had visited one of those; since she was a child, actually. Her mother, on one of the rare days she wasn't working on Hitoka's birthday, had taken her to see a show on the constellations and planets. Maybe this was where the fixation on stars had sprung forth from in Hitoka's aesthetic?

Hitoka bit her lip, thinking it over. She could catch the train and make it in time for the next viewing at the top of the hour, or she could walk around the observatory's visitor displays until the next viewing came around – therein, there would be no rush to get there in time. She nodded to herself decisively. Yes, that sounded like a better way to spend her day.

Feeling a little frivolous, Hitoka rummaged through her wardrobe for one item of clothing she hadn't worn outside of the store's changing room before.

The space-themed playsuit.

Yanking the tag off of the suit, Hitoka lay the garment flat on her bed so that she could construct the rest of her outfit around it. It was a cool day, and recently there had been freak rain showers at varied times. It was best to overdress than to prioritise dressing for the sunshine and summer heat, lest you become soaked to the bone. It didn't help that the playsuit was sleeveless as well as short – the hem of the legs cutting off just above Hitoka's mid-thigh level.

She could cope with getting her legs wet if it rained, so Hitoka decided to go without tights or leggings underneath the suit. She pulled a lightweight, long-sleeved jumper in a soft salmon pink colour from her wardrobe; Hitoka would wear this over the playsuit, both as a coverup from the elements and as a method to disguise herself should she feel self-conscious in public.

The jumper was long enough to cover any misgivings Hitoka might have concerning her body, for which she was glad.

With a quick coat of lipstick – which was becoming less of an enforced habit and more of a dependence with every passing day – and a quick primp of her side ponytail, Hitoka was ready. She slipped on the comfiest pair of sneakers she owned, curling her lip at the bright green colour. She usually only wore them when her feet called for a reprieve from strappy sandals or boots; the colour may be obnoxious, but the shoes were extremely comfortable – and they did also match the ensemble she was wearing.

Pink, black, and lime green, patterns, and neon should have made Hitoka look foolish. However, se had a good feeling about this trip, and decided she'd make the outfit work. It was time to act a little less Hitoka-ish and to walk with her head proudly held high like Kiyoko. If faced with the same dilemma, Hitoka was sure the third year would carry herself with grace and disregard any naysayers.

The train only had a few other people in her compartment, and Hitoka took that as a sign that perhaps things wouldn't be hectic in Sendai. No massive queues into the observatory and planetarium or delays elsewhere that made her want to rip off her side ponytail in frustration. Upon reaching her destination though, Hitoka found that she was dead wrong.

There was roughly an hour and a half's wait to even _purchase_ tickets for the planetarium show, and a queue which stretched outside of the observatory's main entrance and partway down the street. Hitoka remembered reading somewhere that theatre for the shows could contain eighty or so people at a time, but there had to be triple that capacity here and the line was growing by the minute.

Hitoka tugged on the hem of her jumper fretfully. After all the effort she'd gone to for this trip, was it even worth it just to wait here on her own?

A shiver ran down Hitoka's spine, and she rubbed the back of her neck absentmindedly. She waited in line for a further ten minutes; intermittent shivers and the sensation of a pair of eyes roaming over her body that she couldn't locate in the crowd making her ever jumpier. She pulled the hem of her jumper down further, stretching out the knitted material with the force she used to try and cover her legs.

"Yaho! There you are," a pleasant, silken voice brushed against her ear while a strong arm wrapped itself around her body – the hand to which said arm was attached to settling on her elbow and cradling the joint. "We've been looking for you all this time and here you are in line waiting for us."

"E-eh?" Hitoka jolted.

"Yes," a second, lower voice intoned. "We were worried."

The owner of the second voice had situated themselves on Hitoka's left, and the first voice on Hitoka's right. The first voice's owner was slightly taller, having to slump lower to loop themselves around Hitoka's posture. "Don't look now, but there's been a creep watching you for the past ten minutes. We thought it best to intervene, so play along."

"Haha…" Hitoka laughed weakly. "Yeah… all… all this time waiting. We're g-going to be here for a while."

"No matter," came the first voice. "Oikawa Tōru, nice to meet you Hoshi-Chan."

(Wait, Hitoka knew that name from somewhere…)

"Iwaizumi Hajime," the second voice informed Hitoka. Then – "'Hoshi-Chan'?"

"She's wearing stars, Iwa-Chan. _Stars._ How could I not?"

"At least don't name people you've just met, Shittykawa."

"But Iwa-Cha-"

"Hitoka!" Hitoka blurted.

"Wha-?"

"Yachi Hitoka," she responded to Oikawa's incredulous exclamation calmly. "My n-name is Yachi Hitoka."

Now that she got a good look at the pair, Hitoka didn't recognise Iwaizumi – though their names rang a bell. Oikwawa had one of those faces though; the type you saw in magazines or in music videos. She wasn't altogether sure where she'd heard them before though. Oikawa, as Hitoka had noted before, was the taller of the two. Lean, with tousled brown locks and fashionably thick-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. Iwaizumi was shorter and slightly stockier; more muscled than Hitoka had initially thought. What was happening to teenage boys these days? They left Middle School and suddenly _bam!_ Muscles and chiselled looks and it was all too much for Hitoka to handle.

Unless…

No, they couldn't be Volleyball players. There was a nagging voice at the back of Hitoka's mind listing through the various acquired nicknames the Karasuno team had given to their opponents. Hinata in particular liked to rave on about this 'Grand King' person, much to Kageyama's ire.

So what was Hitoka missing? Why was Oikawa so familiar to her?

"So, I've not seen you around before," Oikawa chimed, ignoring how Iwaizumi tensed by Hitoka's left side. Hitoka noticed, however, and she wasn't sure she liked how still the other teen was standing. "Which school are you from?"

Iwaizumi sighed a (very) long-suffering sigh. "We're from Aobajōsai."

Hitoka's breath caught in her mouth momentarily. That was where Hinata's 'Grand King' played volleyball. Her stomach flipped in a way that wasn't pleasant – lips trembling as she deliberated over whether to answer, change the subject, or run away screaming and chance being found by the creeper lurking around corners.

She took a deep breath, preparing herself. "I'm from Karasuno."

Oikawa's closed eye, genteel smile should have been reassuring or captivating. It was neither. "Oh? Small world. You wouldn't happen to know any of the guys on their volleyball team, would you?"

Hitoka gulped. With a timid voice, she explained; "I'm their… their assistant manager."

(She knew that smile. It had looked sweet enough, but experience lay within. Hitoka wished that instead of being such a coward she'd kept those three polaroids on her at all time – it would have been useful to help match the third picture to Oikawa's face for reference. He acted very differently in the flesh.)

Ignoring the warning manner in which Iwaizumi cleared his throat and crossed his arms firmly over his chest, Oiwaka took Hitoka by the shoulders and spin her around to face him. "Well, Hoshi-Chan. I'm _very glad_ to have met you on this day."

 _I can't say the same,_ Hitoka thought, doing her best to look anywhere else than Oikawa's – _Flirt's –_ charming appearance. _I should have just stayed at home._

* * *

 **EDIT [14/7/2018] :** Changed every 'Iwazumi' to 'Iwaizumi'.


	18. It's My Birthday, --

**Heartbreaker? _Pfffsh..._**

* * *

 _It's My Birthday, I'll Annoy Who I Want To_

* * *

Hitoka had been stood for forty minutes, sandwiched between a Setter and an Ace. That sounded very much like the proverbial rock and hard place, and Oikawa and Iwaizumi might well have been. Oikawa had linked his arm with her, and Iwaizumi had yet to step away from Hitoka's left side.

She could understand them staying with her, especially if there was some kind of weirdo on the prowl who preferred the taste of space-themed playsuits, but surely becoming all buddy-buddy was taking a good deed to the extreme?

Oikawa and Iwaizumi had had their White Knight moment, but this wasn't a fairy tale – this was Hitoka Yachi trying not to get herself abducted or befriended by a volleyball power couple. Karasuno, whilst they'd put up a good fight for the duration of their first match with Aobajōsai, but as soon as Oikawa – the Grand King – had walked onto the court, the flightless crows had been utterly destroyed.

Paired with Iwaizumi, Oikawa and the rest of his team were an increased challenge. The aforementioned's partnership with Oikawa was at the same level Hinata and Kageyama wished to attain: complete and utter confidence in one another. A bond that the outsider's eye couldn't comprehend.

All of this talk of fairy tales and story book characters had Hitoka thinking. Yes, Iwaizumi and Oikawa had come to her aid, but Hitoka couldn't help but feel she'd got her protagonists all confused. Was she the little red riding hood of this situation, and Oikawa the wolf?

Did that make Iwaizumi the woodcutter?

Oikawa had yet to let go of her, either clinging onto her sleeves, linking his arm with hers, or keeping a hand on her shoulder. Often Oikawa would be distracted as the queue shuffled forwards (too painfully slowly for Hitoka's liking) by the alert tone on his phone bleeping. He'd move his attention from chattering down Hitoka's ear to check his messages or taking the odd selfie (with the top of Hitoka's head in the frame and Iwaizumi scowling in the background).

The time for the trio to book their tickets had come ( _not soon enough,_ thought Hitoka).

"I really love coming to this place, but why are you here today, Hoshi-Chan?" Oikawa questioned good naturedly. His tone rose the hairs on the back of Hitoka's neck; it made her feel as though she should take whatever Oikawa said with a grain of salt, because he didn't mean what he said anyway.

Hitoka opened her mouth to answer, but Oikawa kept on talking. "It was my birthday the other week, so Iwa-Chan is taking me out for my birthday treat-"

"I never said that," Iwaizumi intoned absently, watching the busy Sendai traffic passing by.

"But Iwa-Chan-"

"No."

"But-"

"No. I don't remember agreeing to that at all, Trashykawa," Iwaizumi grumbled, eyes narrowing dangerously. "Anyway, we're moving again."

Before Hitoka could fish her purse out of her bag, Iwaizumi stepped up to the counter and bought three tickets for the planetarium's show – one for each of them. Hitoka began to protest while Oikawa crowed in delight over his ticket as Iwaizumi distributed them.

"Don't bother," Iwaizumi said to her, waving away her protests. "I'm paying for him too, and he'll only bother me until I bought your ticket. As you might have noticed he's not letting go anytime soon. May as well keep you with us."

"Oh," Hitoka gaped. "Th-thank you?"

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes as Oikawa let go of Hitoka's arm to skip inside the observatory. "Don't mention it. Seriously, don't."

* * *

Sitting in a planetarium, wedged between Iwaizumi and Oikawa (the former's arm slung across the back of her seat and the latter still latched onto her hand), was an experience. Hitoka found she couldn't quite focus on the lecture and the interactive display of the solar system. She was preoccupied with making sure she didn't hyperventilate, or worse, fall asleep on one of them. Then again, the second of the two worst-case scenarios was very unlikely to happen due to how highly strung Hitoka felt.

The lights in the planetarium gradually came back on after the end of the show – so as to not hurt eighty pairs of eyes that had been sat in almost-darkness for the past forty minutes. The low hum of chatter filled in the air, accompanied by rustling bags and coats.

"That was so good," Oikawa drawled happily.

"It was the same show we saw last month," Iwaizumi grouched, leading the way out of the room and down the hallway to the exhibition. If what Iwaizumi said was true, then not a lot would have changed display and programme-wise for the observatory, but Oikawa seemed to be enjoying himself.

"Did you enjoy it Hoshi-Chan?"

Hitoka nodded. "M-mm."

"We should have a look around and go and get some food," Oikawa nattered. The trio had just walked into the exhibition area of the observatory. "Iwa-Chan always says it's overpriced, but I disagree – and they're doing special edition meal set at the moment."

 _How often does Oikawa-San visit here?_ Hitoka wondered, mouth hanging open a little as she took in the information around her on the displays. She couldn't concentrate on anything at all with Oikawa jabbering on and Iwaizumi stalking about the displays like he'd rather be literally anywhere else.

 _How often does he drag Iwaizumi-San around with him? '_ Quite often' was the answer, if the look on Iwaizumi's face expressed his true boredom and familiarity with the observatory's hallways.

Shuffling through the exhibit at a snail's pace, the trio inched their way past the gift shop (Iwaizumi pinching Oikawa's cheek as the latter eyed up a star-shaped plush toy) towards a café adjoined to the observatory. There was another wait for them to obtain a table and chairs large enough to seat the three of them, and an even longer delay for a harassed looking waitress to turn up and serve them their food.

Well, Hitoka and Oikawa's food. Iwaizumi had decided a strong black coffee was the way to go. Maybe coffee was what had kept him sane for so long around Oikawa? Hitoka was willing to try anything at this point; her head felt as though it was spinning from Oikawa's barrage of constant talking.

Iwaizumi's lip curled as Oikawa took a few photographs of his meal (multiple copies of the dish from several different angles, actually), and Aobajōsai's Captain pouted when he caught the look on his friend's face. "Iwa-Chan is always grumpy, y'know Hoshi-Chan."

 _I wonder why,_ Hitoka wanted to mutter.

"Anyway, how are Karasuno doing?"

Ah. That was what Oikawa was playing at then. He had been slowly buttering her up just to get information on Karasuno. Well then, Hitoka bristled, she'd tell him as little as possible. It wasn't as though he – or even Iwaizumi if he knew Hitoka was fishing for information in return – would tell her anything about their team. Though if Hitoka worked her (non-existent) charm, perhaps Oikawa would fold or take pity on her and spill Aobajōsai's secrets.

"We're doing… really well," Hitoka smiled. "I only started wor-working with, with them a few months ago, but from what I've seen already, I'm really glad I d-decided to be a manager."

Oikawa blinked, not expecting her blasé answer. "That's… great then. Hey! Try some of this!"

Oikawa plucked Hitoka's cake fork up from her plate and speared a piece of fruit from his own dish (he'd ordered some sort of special low-calorie astronaut dessert, which didn't look appealing at all); scooping up some of the dessert along with it and brandishing the utensil before Hitoka's lips.

"Say 'Aah'," Oikawa chimed, prompting her. Hitoka said 'Aah', conscious of eyes watching their table from all around the café. Iwaizumi knocked back his cup of coffee like he was depending on it.

"That's-" Hitoka coughed. "That wasn't wha-what I was expecting."

She was being extremely polite with that last comment. The dessert was in fact _disgusting._ It was powdery in texture when chewed and left to savour on the tongue, despite how the rest of the dessert jiggled invitingly in Oikawa's sundae glass. The only saving grace was the fresh fruit dotted around the top, and slither of compote sauce lacing over the edges of the main pudding and spilling over the sides of the glassware.

Oikawa shrugged. "It's different, and very sweet, but it's my birthday so I can have a treat."

"Your birthday was last week," Iwaizumi said flatly, glaring at the bottom of his empty coffee cup as though it had personally offended him with it's lack of liquid.

"You weren't going to take me out last week," Oikawa pouted. "So I had to settle for this week instead. Still, we've found Hoshi-Chan today, so I can't complain."

It sounded very much from Hitoka's side of the table as though Iwaizumi was subtly grinding his teeth together. Iwaizumi's bushy eyebrows were beginning to twitch up and down in synch with his eyelids. Hitoka grimaced; should she do something?

"It was n-nice meeting Oikawa-San and Iwaizumi-San too," she told them both sincerely – and yes, it had been. They'd helped her out of a predicament (one that could have ended nastily), paid for her ticket, and had almost paid for her meal (though she'd vehemently denied Iwaizumi spending more money.) Aside from the vaguely invasive questions about Karasuno and her own jittery nature, Hitoka had felt very welcome settled between the pair.

Oikawa looked to Hitoka's sincerely smiling face, to Iwaizumi, to his dessert in disbelief, back to Hitoka, before pleadingly at Iwaizumi.

"No," the Ace told him warningly.

"Iwa-Chan-"

"No. I don't want crows mobbing us at school or practice."

Oikawa frowned. "You haven't even heard me out yet, and you're already denying me."

"Because I can already tell that anything you have to say that doesn't involve a volleyball court is likely going to be stupid," Iwaizumi snipped back, hands curling (aggressively) around his empty coffee cup.

(Hitoka hoped to whatever deity that would listen – even Nishinoya – that Iwaizumi didn't lob the cup at Oikawa's pretty face and got all three of them banned from the observatory. Though she couldn't say Oikawa didn't deserve it; he'd been pushing his luck all afternoon…)

Sulkily, Oikawa shifted in his seat to face Hitoka. He scooped up another mouthful of his dessert, letting the spoon hand teasingly from the corner of his mouth while he savoured the (disgusting) taste.

"Say, Hoshi-Chan, Iwa-Chan and I come as a package deal," he told her seriously. Well, she thought that was his serious face and tone. She couldn't actually tell; Tōru Oikawa was a whirlwind of false emotions and duplicitous expressions. "But I think we've got room for one more in our life."

Iwaizumi seemed to choke on his breath. "That's what you were thinking?"

"Well if you'd have let me finish what I was saying in the first place it wouldn't have been such a shock for you. Honestly, Iwa-Chan, like you can't commend my taste."

Hitoka shrunk under their scrutinising glances. She tugged helplessly at the hem of her jumper; looping her fingers around one another and the supple knitwear, kneading the material like a pawing kitten.

Iwaizumi hummed. "I'm not disputing your taste, but there's got to be a better way of dropping this on Yachi-San."

"She's cute, Hoshi-Chan wears stars," Oikawa counted off on his fingers. "She's not clingy like my ex, and she's fine with volleyball."

"The fact that she's Karasuno's secondary manager has nothing to do with it then?" Iwaizumi snorted.

Oikawa placed one hand over his heart. "On the contrary, that's a bonus. Did I mention she wears stars?"

"I'm… I'm sorry," Hitoka interjected, her voice no louder than a whisper. "But I'm really lost. What are you bo-both talking about?"

Oikawa and Iwaizumi shared a _look_ before the latter waved his hand idly towards the former. Oikawa grinned, preening his fringe with one free hand as he took Hitoka's own with the other.

"You're cute, Hoshi-Chan," he said, and Hitoka felt colour bloom in her cheeks. She was expecting him to say this, and while it got a reaction out of her he'd been saying things of a similar tone all day. She was used to it by now.

Hitoka wasn't ready for what he said next.

"Go out with us."

"'Us'?" Hitoka echoed.

"Both of us," Iwaizumi confirmed.

* * *

 **A/N [14/7/2018] :** Apologies for the later uploading time, we got in late from the hospital. Eating your evening meal at 10pm is a strange experience. Also, up until half an hour ago I only had half of this chapter ready. Sorry for any mistakes.

 **EDIT [15/7/2018] :** Corrected a few mistakes I made while half-asleep last night.


	19. Boys Come Like Busses

**Heartbreaker? _Pfffsh..._**

* * *

 _Boys Come Like Busses_

* * *

 _Both of us…_

"Eh-excuse me?" Hitoka stammered, looking wildly between an anxious Oikawa and a stoic-faced Iwaizumi.

 _Both of them? As in-_ Hitoka's face burst into flame. _No. That's can't be right. It can't – Kiyoko-San didn't warn me about two people ever wanting to-_

"Ah," Iwaizumi bowed his head apologetically to Hitoka. "I knew you could have told her better."

Oikawa's lip jutted out childishly. "Well if you think you can do a better job, go ahead."

Determined not to talk anymore, Oikawa dipped his spoon back into his dessert – continuing to eat while he waited for Iwaizumi to explain what the hell had just happened to Hitoka.

Iwaizumi levelled Aobajōsai's Captain with a flat stare; he pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbing at the area under his eyes to relieve the tension present. "Oikawa and I are a couple. He likes you, I don't find you too bad, and he wants you to join us."

"That's what I th-thought you said," Hitoka bit her lip. "I don't get it though. Why would you want m-me? Especially if you're happy together?"

A small selfish part of her voiced that it would be incredibly difficult to complete the tasks assigned by Kiyoko should Oikawa already be in a committed relationship. Hitoka chastised herself immediately for thinking that – how could she be so selfish when there was more than some dumb kiss at stake?

"Iwa-Chan needs a change of pace every now and again," Oikawa chuckled. "Can't let him get complacent with just me, and well, we like trying new things."

"Oh." That sounded legitimate. A bit abrupt (considering they'd met about two hours ago), but legitimate nonetheless.

"Have you ever had a relationship before, Hoshi-Chan?" Oikawa inquired, curiously tilting his head.

Hitoka shook her head. She debated on whether to explain the last semi-romantic encounter she'd had. Couldn't hurt, right?

"My first kiss end-ended in a nosebleed," she told the pair, noting how Oikawa's face wrinkled in horror. "Nothing really happened after that."

Iwaizumi coughed, and Oikawa seemed to snap out of whatever repulsed state he'd entered.

"Gross," Aobajōsai's Captain commented, before shrugging. "I know it's not conventional, but I've got a really good feeling about you Hoshi-Chan, and Iwaizumi will go along with everything I say-"

"Not everything," Iwaizumi interrupted.

" _Almost everything_ I say," Oikawa corrected. "Polyamory is something we'd never wanted to experience before, and then we met you. You seem like the nice medium for both of us. Especially since you're at another school – it'll be a treat to come and see you since we're together almost every day!"

 _Is he being sincere, or is this a tactic? Get into my p-pants and learn all of Karasuno's secrets?_ It wouldn't have surprised Hitoka if it was the latter. While she and Kiyoko (and poor, long-suffering Kōshi) had been working on her confidence and self-esteem, Hitoka wasn't all that comfortable with the thought of anyone ever being drawn to her in a romantic sense.

Bokuto could have been the exception, but his kiss was more of a way to prove a point and achieving perfection that it was about desire or developing feelings. Saddening, but true, unfortunately. It certainly hadn't done Hitoka's belief in herself any wonders; she had now grown into the habit of scrutinising the actions and words of anyone who expressed a little interest.

Oikawa certainly lived up to his target codename. _Flirt._ Two hours into wandering round an observatory and he (and to a lesser extent, Iwaizumi) was making a move on her. Though perhaps with a flirtier target that was the only way forward? To dupe them into a simulated relationship just as they duped you into announcing your feelings (before they ultimately dumped you…)

Still, the two of them together was proving to be an interesting concept, and Hitoka's wayward hormones were working overdrive right now. It was one way to get the job done – Kiyoko's lessons, that is – and to experiment a little.

Hitoka had received that award talk shortly before she began high school. Her mother had sat her down and told her about _feelings_ , and attraction (though not to the same degree as Kiyoko's own lecture on the subject), and how Madoka would be extremely disappointed if Hitoka prioritised boys over learning.

Boys, Madoka had said, came like busses. None at all, then all at once.

(Hitoka believed Madoka might have picked that saying up from an overseas client, because the Japanese bus service was always timely and apologised often for being _early_ of all things.)

Love, therein, would happen when it happened. Experimenting was probably to be forgotten about until she was away at University, and when Hitoka was an adult – therefore, by default, able to make mistakes without it ruining her secondary education. You could always reapply to go to University after all. Boyfriends could appear in Hitoka's life multiple times, or not at all (Madoka wasn't discouraging of other possible relationships – love was love to her, and it had to be better than her own relationship with Hitoka's father). Hitoka's mother was pessimistic concerning so-called 'true love' however, noting that if Hitoka found The One™ so early in life then her daughter was an extremely lucky individual.

"I don't re-really know what to do with one b-b-boyfriend," Hitoka keened. "What would… would I have to _do_ with two? I'm not. I'm not _experienced at all!_ "

Oikawa's return grin bordered on lechery. "Oh, I'm fairly certain we can teach you all you'd possibly have to know- OW! Iwa-Chan _why-"_

 _"_ Stop scaring her," Iwaizumi barked.

"But I-"

 _"Stop it."_

Oikawa conceded, hand reaching under the table to rub at his shin. Concern flickered through Iwaizumi's harsh glare, though the disapproving curl of his lips didn't change at all. "I need that leg, Iwa-Chan. There was no need to kick me."

Hitoka swallowed dryly. The crumbs from the slice of cake she'd purchased in the observatory's café were sticking to the inside of her mouth and the downwards track of her throat. Hitoka couldn't deny that she was curious, and from what she could see Iwaizumi kept Oikawa in check while Oikawa expressed more affection in their relationship. They were extremely committed to each other, but in a subtle, well-established way that married couples shared. They could fight like cats and dogs, but they were happy – constantly keeping each other on their toes, but with enough emotion and longing to bring them back to one another's side even over the most serious or trivial of disputes.

This was the kind of love Madoka had wanted in return from her husband, but had ultimately never received. This was what Hitoka was told to attain. This was something that Kiyoko hadn't warned her about encroaching on, but that Hitoka knew instinctually not to interfere with at all.

"What this idiot is trying to say," Iwaizumi pointed with his thumb at a petulant Oikawa, "Was that we don't really know what we're doing either. Sure, we've got a bit more experience, but our own relationship was something we had to work at together."

"Something _you_ had to work at maybe. _I_ knew you were the one for me when you made me do those hellish stretches," Oikawa reminisced. "How could I not after the way you put your hands on-"

"Shut your mouth, Trashykawa, before I shut it for you." Oikawa blew his boyfriend a kiss.

This was something Hitoka's mother, Kiyoko, Yaoi anime, or even dating sims couldn't prepare Hitoka for. This was embarrassing. So very embarrassing. People in the café were watching and eating up the happenings at their table like it was a limited edition KFC Christmas bucket. If Hitoka's mouth way dry from cake crumbs before, it was positively desert-parched at this point.

It was _embarrassing_. She shouldn't be enjoying this. Not at all.

(She was.)

"What do… do you mean by your relationship be-being something you had to work at?" Hitoka questioned.

"Well," Oikawa pushed the remainders in his sundae glass away from him before cupping his chin in both hands – elbows firmly planted on the table top, much to Iwaizumi's displeasure. "I knew I liked both before I entered middle school, but Iwa-Chan here-"

"Iwa-Chan can speak for himself," Iwaizumi grunted, trying not to notice at how Oikawa's eyes lit up at the act of him using the latter's nickname for himself. (Hitoka was almost certain Oikawa had muttered 'Kinky' under his breath at that.) "I wasn't sure who I liked at all. I just like who I like, none of this gender crap."

"O-oh. I guess I've never thought about it like that before," Hitoka acknowledged. She was positive she liked boys, but Kiyoko's appearance had initially sent Hitoka into conniptions. Truthfully, one person being so attractive was unfair. Maybe she was like Iwaizumi then? Hitoka liked who she liked, and that was that.

"So," Oikawa drawled. "What do you say?"

"Can I…"

"Yes?"

Hitoka frowned. "Can I think about it some m-more? It's just – I just…. Don't know you veh-very well. And-"

Oikawa looked a little disappointed but nodded in acquiescence. Iwaizumi was the one to say it was alright, and that she should take her time in deciding. It was a big thing, your first relationship, and all three of them were at crucial points in their academic lives.

"We should swap numbers," Oikawa said, immediately brightening at the prospect. Iwaizumi hummed in agreement. "Maybe we could try a little date, like we've had today, and go from there?"

"D-date?!" Hitoka yelped.

Oikawa tilted his head and smiled mischievously, blindsiding her with a cheeky wink. "Well, originally we were helping you out, but you can't deny we haven't been dropping you signals all afternoon."

 _What signals?_ Hitoka thought agitatedly. _You seem to be like that with everyone and Iwaizumi-San has, like, three facial expressions…_

* * *

"I didn't n-n-know what to do, Kiyoko-San," Hitoka sobbed down the phone as quietly as possible seeing as she was still on the train _and_ in public. It had been plenty rude of her to be using her phone on the train anyway, but Hitoka felt as though she just couldn't wait to tell Kiyoko all about her day and to get some advice.

Iwaizumi and Oikawa had walked her back to the train station, but thankfully hadn't insisted on following her safely all the way home. They'd left her with the promise (or Oikawa had, anyway) of an amazing trial date, which had made Hitoka's cheeks flush and partially-guilty tears brim at her lower lash-line.

"Honestly I had no idea that Oikawa-San was Bisexual, or that he was dating Aobajōsai's Ace," Kiyoko returned through the phone. Coughing could be heard in the background.

"Wha-what was that?"

"Oh, Kōshi-San is here with me," Kiyoko told Hitoka casually. "He's got his own troubles at the moment, and seeing as we both somehow muddle through guiding you he's here to ask me for some advice himself."

The faint words of 'Did you just say what I thought you said?!', which were unmistakeably uttered by Kōshi's voice, filtered through the phone faintly. He'd overheard what Hitoka had said then, just as she could hear him talking to Kiyoko in return.

"Yes, yes," Kiyoko muttered. "Oikawa-San and Iwaizumi-San want to turn their twosome into a threesome, you heard correctly."

('Don't say it like that!' Kōshi shrieked, mirroring Hitoka's thoughts word for word.)

"What should I do?" Hitoka wondered.

Kiyoko sighed. "What do you feel you want to do, Hitoka-Chan? I can understand if you'd rather not pursue _Flirt_ – I could always search for another target. I was researching one player from Johzenji, but from the looks of things he'd research me right back."

"I think," Hitoka paused. "I think I want to continue. I want to… to give them a try, I guess."

There was a crackling through the phone – almost like Kiyoko had dropped her device – and snarling noises coming through the receiver. The faint voices of Koshi and Kiyoko bickering between one another could be heard:

"What are you thinking?! We're not raising Hitoka-Chan to be a saucepot-"

"You're such a prude, Koshi-San-"

"What would Daichi think?"

"Why don't you speak with him about that then?" The line fell oddly silent. Deathly silent, in fact. "That's what I thought."

Kiyoko had managed to snatch her phone back. "If you're happy with doing that, Hitoka-Chan, then we will both support you wholeheartedly. Just… just be careful it doesn't get too messy, okay?"


	20. I Lived

**Heartbreaker? _Pfffsh..._**

* * *

 _I Lived_

* * *

 **To:** Yachi Hitoka

 **From:** Oikawa Tooru

21:43 18/7/20XX

i had fun 2day

nite *-Chan

* * *

"Okaa-San," Hitoka approached conversationally at breakfast the next morning before she was due to dash to school. Madoka had nearly completed her latest project, so had taken the opportunity to relax and eat something other than the snacks her daughter laid out for her.

Unfortunately, taking an hour's break wouldn't help Madoka's distraction and fatigue. Hitoka's mother was currently off in a world of her own and hadn't heard her speak.

"Hmm?" She hummed, biting into the slice of jam-slathered toast Hitoka offered her.

"What would you do if you had…" Hitoka took a deep breath. "… _multiple_ … people wanting to date you?"

Madoka finished chewing, swiping at a stray blob of jam that had landed on her lip. "As in two different people fighting over you?" She questioned disparagingly, wondering whether Hitoka had taken any notice at all back at the start of her first year when Madoka had told her all about the joyous wonders of love. She took another bite of her toast, teeth clamping down ferociously and tearing through the bread.

She'd hoped Hitoka wouldn't make the same mistakes she had as a teen. Not that Hitoka had been a mistake – Madoka wouldn't pass her up for the world. Her ex-husband on the other hand…

Hitoka shook her head. "M-more like at the same time."

Madoka choked on her toast. "Both of them?" Her daughter nodded. "At the same time?"

Madoka was torn between confusion and pride over this little titbit of information. Two for the price of one was normally a great deal; in the case of supermarkets, it was a cause of much joviality for housewives, but more men in your life usually meant disaster. (Madoka was a little biased, however.)

Hitoka's phone buzzed on the counter. Madoka waved her off, so Hitoka flipped it open (she had yet to change to one of the newer models, and still owned a flip phone) checking the notification. Multiple phone charms bounced against the back of her hand as she navigated the keys.

She winced as she realised who it was from. Since quarter to ten the night before, Oikawa had sent her multiple messages – which Hitoka was yet to read.

"Is that them?" Her mother questioned, leaning her chin on one palm while she languidly held the half-eaten piece of toast with the other.

"One of them," Hitoka replied quietly. "He's…" 'a pain'? "… very chatty."

Scrolling through earlier messages, mainly just inane stray thoughts (the kind that cropped up at two in the morning and refused to go away), tales about the night sky, and the occasional sappy message, Hitoka found the text from a few minutes ago.

"Well," her mother demanded. "What does it say?"

"It doesn't?" Hitoka squinted at her screen. Something was blocking out most of the screen and a potential message. "Oh, he's sent a p-picture."

She quickly downloaded the attachment, trying her best to scroll further down the struggling screen to find the message below. "'Iwa-Chan bought me milk bread'," Hitoka read slowly.

Her phone vibrated, alerting her that the download had ended. Hitoka tapped on the waiting image. Oikawa, as usually, took up the majority of the foreground. Dressed in his team's gym uniform with a wrapped package of milk bread hanging from his mouth as he winked to the camera. Iwaizumi lurked in the background just over Oikawa's shoulder.

"Thi-this is them," Hitoka told her mother, showing the woman her phone.

"Are they older?" Madoka questioned.

"Th-third years, I think?" Replied Hitoka. "They asked me to go – go on a date with them. Before I decide anything."

Madoka's eyebrows rose. "That's sensible of them," she muttered.

"Do you think that – that going out with both of them is a g-good idea?"

Madoka looked down to the table top contemplatively. "I think you should do what makes you happy."

That was what Kiyoko had told her, though the latter hadn't been as straightforward as her mother. Madoka could always be counted on to be blunt with her opinion.

 _The trouble is,_ Hitoka thought as she readied herself to leave the apartment and catch her bus, _is that I'm not sure what will make me happy._

* * *

 **To:** Yachi Hitoka

 **From** : Oikawa Tōru

08:17 19/7/20XX

hope u have a gud day at practice

iwa-chan says hi

* * *

 **To:** Oikawa Tōru

 **From:** Yachi Hitoka

08:19 19/7/20XX

Thank you. You too.

Say 'Hi' back for me, please.

* * *

 **To:** Yachi Hitoka

 **From:** Oikawa Tōru

08:20 19/7/20XX

proper grmmr? cute 〜٩(^▿^)۶〜

* * *

"He just doesn't stop, does he?" Kōshi muttered, eying the string of texts from Oikawa on Hitoka's phone.

"I must say it's a little disconcerting," Kiyoko agreed. "From our first practice game with Aobajōsai I could tell Oikawa-San was very forward, but this…"

"'Extreme'?" Koshi guessed. Kiyoko hummed in agreement.

Hitoka took her phone from Kōshi's extended hand. "I guess that Oikawa-San is always like that. Or well, he was the same yesterday, so I j-just assumed that this was what he was like. I didn't – didn't expect all of the texting."

"Well," Kōshi said slyly. "At least he doesn't mind how you type like my grandmother."

"I'm surprised she even knows how to use a phone," Kiyoko snipped. "Considering your grandmother passed away at the start of our second year."

"Yes, well," huffed Kōshi, "It was just an expression."

* * *

 **To:** Yachi Hitoka

 **From:** Oikawa Tōru

15:58 19/7/20XX

wow, karasuno is totally in boonies teritory

* * *

15:58 19/7/20XX

*territory

* * *

 **To:** Oikawa Tōru

 **From:** Yachi Hitoka

16:02 19/7/20XX

Wait? Are you at my school right now?

* * *

16:02 19/7/20XX

Why are you there now?

We're all on our way home. We've been practicing all day.

* * *

 **To:** Yachi Hitoka

 **From:** Oikawa Tōru

16:05 19/7/20XX

managed 2 gewt awy from iwa-chan. got 30min hedstart

dya think i passed u?

* * *

 **To:** Oikawa Tōru

 **From:** Yachi Hitoka

16:06 19/7/20XX

Stay where you are, and I'll come and find you.

* * *

 **To:** Yachi Hitoka

 **From:** Oikawa Tōru

16:06 19/7/20XX

oh shit

* * *

"Ah…" Hitoka worried her lip, staring at the last message Oikawa had sent her. She turned to the others stood outside Coach Ukai's family store. "I've got to run back to school for something, see you later."

As she ran back the way she'd come down the hill, the others – minus Kiyoko, as she'd hurried home that afternoon – looked on as Hitoka sprinted away. They knew Hitoka could be a little scatter brained (Yamaguchi more than anyone, with how he watched her) but their secondary manager was fairly punctual and organised with collecting her things before the gym and the club room were locked up the night.

"That was odd, even for Yachi-Chan's standard," mumbled Daichi.

Suga, partway through munching a nikuman, swallowed his mouthful before he answered. "I'm sure it's nothing."

"That," Daichi pointed to Hitoka's retreating form, "Is not nothing. That is the run of a panicked person."

"Like I said, nothing," Suga insisted. Why did speaking with Daichi have to be so difficult recently? Kiyoko had suggested they both talk it out, 'Couple Counselling' she'd told him snidely, but Kōshi couldn't see that working.

Tsukishima, who was one to partake in the creation of drama and walking away from the shitstorm he'd brewed, knew when to run when things were about to go down. His own drama he could handle, other people's disputes? Not so much. Yamaguchi – despite his own worry for Hitoka's strangeness – followed Tsukishima's lead.

"Why don't you follow after her if you're worried," Asahi suggested, adjusting his hair back into a more secure bun.

Kōshi, knowing that was somehow related to Kiyoko's stupid lessons (don't ask him how he knew, he just knew it in his gut), suggested that they finish their food first before going to check on Hitoka. Hopefully by the time Hinata had cleaned Ukai's store of nikuman, Hitoka would have finished up whatever it was that had sent her into such a panic. If not, then Kōshi was sure the events to follow would be… _interesting_.

* * *

 **To:** Oikawa Tōru

 **From:** Yachi Hitoka

16:12 19/7/20XX

Oikawa-San?

* * *

16:15 19/7/20XX

Oikawa-San? Are you okay?

* * *

 **To:** Yachi Hitoka

 **From:** Oikawa Tōru

16:19 19/7/20XX

i lived (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و

* * *

 **To:** Yachi Hitoka

 **From:** Iwaizumi Hajime

16:20 19/7/20XX

Trashykawa thought he could skip on practice

Sorry to make you worry

Oh wait can see you now

* * *

Stumbling to a halt, Hitoka rested her palms on her thighs as she tried to get her breathing under control. Iwaizumi and Oikawa watched on, the latter rubbing at a fresh bump left on the top of his head from Iwaizumi's fist.

"Yaho, Hoshi-Chan! We came to visit," Oikawa chimed as though she hadn't just turned herself into a sweaty, panting mess running back up the hill to her school.

"You came to visit," Iwaizumi huddled, cocking his fist. "I came to bring you back to practice."

"You mean to tell me you left our team to practice by themselves?" Oikawa clasped his hands over his chest in mock-shock.

Iwaizumi ground his teeth together, "I sent them home because you were supposed to be working with the first years again, and you bailed out."

"Oh." Oikawa sounded very sincere. (Not.) "Still, it was nice to come and see Hoshi-Chan, right?"

Hitoka, who had been looking around to make sure none of the Karasuno team had followed her back to the school, shortly told Oikawa that he'd only seen her yesterday and that he'd been texting her all day.

"I'm hurt, Hoshi-Chan. Really, truly hurt," he told her. "I thought you'd be happy to see us."

Hitoka wanted to apologise, Oikawa had a very convincing teary-eyed pout. Iwaizumi saw through his boyfriend's act, smacking Oikawa firmly across the back of his head. Relenting to brute force, Oikawa dropped his victim routine.

Hitoka stilled as she heard multiple running footsteps approaching. She prayed that it wasn't the Boys Volleyball Team – prayed with all her might that it was anyone but them, especially since Oikawa was here.

"Now that we're all here though," Oikawa stated loudly as the footsteps clattered closer. "We can arrange our date."

"Date?" Daichi reiterated, bristling at the sight of the two Aobajōsai players. "What date?"

Oikawa slung his arm smugly over Iwaizumi's shoulder, wrapping his other arm around Hitoka's waist and pulling her close. "Our date of course," he replied.

Kōshi guiltily shuffled behind Asahi and Hinata (who was still working his way through a bag of pork buns), throwing Hitoka a worried glance. Daichi did not look very happy with proceedings.

"Oh!" Oikawa cried, slapping his hand dramatically to his forehead. "Should we have asked you for permission first, Captain-San?"

"'We'?" Tanaka had come along for moral support while Nishinoya, Kageyama, and the rest of the second years had stayed behind to pay off Hinata's tab with their loose change. His face was a picture of intimidation, but Oikawa wasn't swayed by it at all. Truthfully, Tanaka's intervention spurred Oikawa on even more.

The Captain of Aobajōsai smiled rakishly at those assembled from the Karasuno team. "You heard correctly. Both of us are interested in your little manager here," he purred.

* * *

 **A/N [16/7/2018] :** Pleased to announce my dad's out of hospital! Also, what do you think about the text messages? They'll look slightly neater on AO3 because you can play around more with formatting on there, but I just wanted to include a few quick sections that explained a lot in a little typing time for me. They probably will only appear (maybe) for the next few chapters, so don't stress if they're not really your thing. Also, one chapter remaining for this set, and then after a week's break we're finally on the home straight!

Who do you think/want Hitoka to end up with? (I already know, and I'm not tellin', but It'd be nice to see who you think it is. Reviewer Squirrel1464 seems to be on point with their predictions!)


	21. Throwing Stones At Crows

**Heartbreaker? _Pfffsh..._**

* * *

 _Throwing Stones At Crows_

* * *

Daichi's neutral smile, something he prided himself on, was becoming strained.

The Smile™ usually appeared only appeared in times of need; when exchanging pleasantries with a person he didn't really see eye to eye with, or during interactions with rival volleyball teams. It was the thin, controlled smile of an adolescent who was clearly done with whatever – _whomever_ – they were interacting with, and perfected over years of watching extremely stressed adults deliver the same expression.

Daichi Sawamura was tired, okay? This latest batch of first years were more troublesome than Daichi had anticipated. He had hoped however that sweet little Yachi – seeing as she was one of the more mature first years to have joined the club – would be less of a headache.

This had proven not to be true for a variety of reasons, two of which were stood right next to the quaking girl right now.

Sometimes Daichi just wanted to take Suga to the side, or somewhere far, far away from the Karasuno gym, and ask him where they went so wrong raising their kids. (Because of course Kōshi was responsible for this mess just as much as he was.)

Catching the back of a riled-up Tanaka's collar with his hand, Daichi turned his attention (and inanely killer smile) onto Oikawa. "I had no idea you'd met Yachi-Chan. After all, she wasn't at our first game."

"It's a good thing she wasn't really otherwise she would have-" Oikawa began, only to receive a punch to the back from Iwaizumi.

Shaking out his fist, Iwaizumi clarified that the pair had only met Hitoka yesterday, and that Oikawa (as per usual) had rushed off ahead before thinking. And he had opened his treacherous mouth.

Daichi was partially placated, but this didn't clear up the fact that two notable (and that was putting it lightly, Oikawa's serve was top-notch) volleyball players were fraternising with their manager-in-training. A manager who, up until about a month and a half ago, jumped at her own shadow.

People could be drawn to the oddest of people, and Daichi knew you couldn't help who you fell for sometimes, but why Hitoka? Kiyoko he could understand – Kiyoko had the face, quiet mannerisms, and a personality that would click with Oikawa's own. Kiyoko was power-couple material. Hitoka? Not so much. Not that Daichi had anything against who she fell for, but Hitoka dating Oikawa would be like throwing a sacrificial lamb to a very hungry wolf.

And what was that about the two of them vying for her hand?

"You met our secondary manager yesterday, and now you're pestering her?" Daichi's smile did not waver. He felt Tanaka straining against his hand, so Daichi tightened his fingers around the collar of the second year's jacket.

Oikawa beamed. "It's not pestering if she likes it!"

All eyes turned to Hitoka. She swallowed harshly, mouth parched and unwilling to give an answer.

"I think that says everything, Oikawa-San," Daichi told Aobajōsai's Captain politely. "We were going to head back to the store Yachi-Chan, if you're interested."

Hitoka nodded. She would just have to try and speak with Oikawa and Iwaizumi later without the rest of her team present; anything she tried to do now would either be used as ammunition to further antagonise Karasuno or seen as a betrayal by the latter. Following the team back to Ukai's family store to avoid further confrontation was the sensible option.

Oikawa would know when to not throw stones at crows, right?

"That sounds great, I could do with a pick-me-up," Oikawa announced. "What about you Iwa-Chan?"

(Hitoka wanted to scream. Oikawa had never received the memo that crows could hold insanely long grudges it would seem.)

Iwaizumi's face was pinched (more so than usual whenever Oikawa talked), and wordlessly he stepped alongside Oikawa as Aobajōsai's Captain followed the rest of the team back down the hill. Hitoka dragged her feet, Kōshi petting her arm softly for moral support; he too felt uneasy about this.

Hinata, finished stuffing his face for the moment and with cheeks that resembled a hamster than a teenage boy, almost choked on the nikuman he'd been chewing through. "Eh? Grand King is here?!"

The orange-haired teen's knees had locked together in surprise. Walking past him on their way back to Ukai's store, Kōshi ruffled Hinata's wild tousle of curls.

"Never change, Hinata," he told the teen. Squaring his shoulders in preparation and sparing a glance to Hitoka (the girl was near-vibrating from fear), Kōshi steeled himself for the inevitable; if the Karasuno team and Hitoka made it through this meeting without damaging Coach Ukai's store, someone walking away with a new nose-job, or Hitoka's chances of ever completing her set target list being crushed it would be a miracle.

Plus, Kōshi was certain Daichi was suspicious around him. Kōshi had after all tried to hold the team back in their pursuit of checking on Hitoka. He was fairly sure there would be a great deal of 'talking' to be done between himself and the Captain later.

Trying to maintain a strong image in front of their opponents, maintaining Daichi's trust in him as the Vice Captain of the club, all while keeping Hitoka and Kiyoko's covert managerial tasks secret… it was all becoming too much for Kōshi to bear. Something would have to give eventually.

* * *

Hitoka supposed she could call this her second date if she went along with what Oikawa had said to her yesterday. From what her 'friends' in middle school had told her, and those in her high school class who's tried dating before, dates were supposed to be full of enjoyment and good fluttery feelings.

The only fluttery feeling Hitoka was feeling was anxiety, and it wasn't pleasant at all.

Oikawa was unfazed, as was Iwaizumi; both sat in the cramped plastic chairs inside Coach Ukai's family store. Hitoka sat with them, an untouched can of juice sat on the table before her. The Karasuno Boys Volleyball Team (well, those who hadn't escaped before Daichi had gone to investigate Hitoka's strange behaviour) were dotted around the store – reading magazines, pretending to peruse through the items for sale on the shelves, or outright staring at the trio sat at the table.

Coach Ukai himself had lit another cigarette (for the umpteenth time that day), resigning himself to taking languid drags and flicking the ash almost threateningly from the tip into his overflowing ashtray. He didn't really understand what the fuss was all about, but the moment those boys (and Hitoka) pushed away other potential customers, he'd have to intervene and kick them all outside.

Hitoka fisted her hands on top her knees, shoulders tense.

"These are good," Oikawa sounded delighted with the bite of nikuman he had taken. Hinata's mouth watered, stomach growling, much to the dismay of the boys who'd just finished paying off Hinata's tab. "Not as good as milk bread, but still delicious."

Iwaizumi grunted in affirmation. He didn't seem to be all that picky of an eater; Oikawa had split open his own pork bun – revelling in the layers of dough and filling. Unlike his other half ('better half' Oikawa would argue), Iwaizumi bit strait into the steaming bun. The two couldn't be more different, Hitoka marvelled. One revelled in mind games and the other couldn't be more to the point.

"So, Hoshi-Chan," Oikawa idly licked the grease off his finger tips after not being able to locate a napkin. "How are you finding our date so far?"

Hitoka felt like she was trapped in goldfish bowl, what with all staring. Perhaps, a better analogy would be she felt like a tasty morsel being pecked at by two plucky pigeons. Meanwhile a flock of hungry crows watched on – waiting for their opportunity to strike.

"G-great," Hitoka stammered falsely.

Iwaizumi snorted. "No need to lie, this is a shitty second date." He nodded his chin at an oblivious Oikawa, "I'd have lamped him one already if I were you."

 _Luckily, I'm not you,_ Hitoka thought dryly. Violence hadn't been her first thought when dealing with Tōru Oikawa, and as a peaceful (read: deathly afraid) person Hitoka would rather use her words than her fists any day. Or just run. Running away from your problems usually worked if you had enough stamina.

"We all really – really enjoy Ukai-San's nikuman," she told her 'dates'. A muttered 'Glad to hear it,' could be heard from behind the counter. "So, it's nice to see Oikawa-San and Iwaizumi-San enjoying them too."

They probably hadn't put too much thought behind savouring the taste. If either of the pair from Aobajōsai were like Hinata, they ate first and questioned the flavour later. When it was repeating on them most likely, and nothing – not even the strongest breath mints on the market – could mask the faint oniony tang left on the palate from the sauce.

"You can just call us Tōru and Hajime, Hoshi-Chan," Oikawa crooned. He was taking far too much delight in ruffling some feathers.

An attack of raging hormones yesterday really couldn't have resulted in this disaster, could it? Maybe the events of the last forty-eight hours were all the product of a fever dream, and Hitoka would wake soon sweaty and deranged in her bed? She tried to subtly pinch the skin of her thigh underneath the table.

Nothing happened. She was lucid, and this was really happening.

(Guardian Deity preserve her soul, this had to be one of the most – if not _the most_ – mortifying things to have happened in her life; and Hitoka had done and had some mortifying things happen during her short sixteen years.)

Hitoka could actual feel the assembled Karasuno players and Coach Ukai bristling at Oikawa's forwardness. It was a palpable tension; a shift in the air that was slowly beginning to choke Hitoka the quicker her heart jackhammered in her chest.

Was satisfying her curiosity (and her hormones) really worth it?

 _No_. Hitoka shook her head. It really wasn't. She'd speak with Kiyoko over the phone if the third year was free and ask about changing her _Flirt_ target – because this really wasn't working, nor was it worth the upset. (Hitoka, in retrospect, wasn't sure why she'd thought it would work in the first place. _Hormones, hormones…_ )

"Oika- _Tōru_ -San, Ha-Hajime-San," she started. "You're very ni-nice people, but I… I don't think I can do this."

"Circling birds putting you off?" Tōru queried, his voice sweet but the underlying meaning of his question bitter.

Hajime lowered his head, eyes dropping closed. "No, Shittykawa, it's probably just you."

Hajime Iwaizumi, for all his gruff exterior, was really quite perceptive: "You're not enjoying this at all, are you? Don't worry about it, Yachi-San. I know he's a pain," Iwaizumi told her. "But he's my pain."

"I'm really sorry," Hitoka whispered. "But I don't think I'm… ready, for suh-such a big commitment."

Daichi, who had been peering over one of the shelves inside the store in order to watch the trio closer, deflated in relief. Kōshi, who had been stood next to the Captain the entire time (exerting far more discretion and a little interest in a packet of instant ramen noodles) sighed gently. The crisis, it would seem, had been momentarily averted.

"It's fine, Hoshi-Chan," Oikawa didn't seem surprised at her answer. Perhaps he'd knew all along that she'd been caught up in his flow the day prior – having been used to Iwaizumi relenting to most of his whims – and that she would chicken out when it came to her making a decision.

"Keep in touch though," Hajime amended. "This one talks to me all the time about that space-stuff and I don't understand a word of it. Might keep him entertained if he has someone to vent to about aliens."

"They're real, Iwa-Chan," Tōru protested hotly, fists clamping to his side. "They're _real_ and they are out there, impersonating people's dogs and meddling with corn fields."

"Why would they be impersonating dogs?" Iwaizumi grumbled.

"Why wouldn't they be?!" Oikawa bit back. Coughing, Tōru slicked a hand through his artfully tousled hair. "I think it would be prudent if we left Hoshi-Chan and Karasuno with just a taster of our special moves, no? For when we trounce them and Shiratorizawa before the Nationals?"

Hajime blinked. "Whatever."

"Just follow my lead, okay Iwa-Chan?"

The two stood from their chairs, nodding gratefully to Coach Ukai for allowing them to use the seats. Shifting around the table's edge to stand either side of Hitoka, Hajime made to mirror Tōru's actions; leaning closer to the dithering girl.

"The Grand King's special move?" Hinata gawped, both he and Kageyama shuffling closer to the central table in anticipation.

"We call this one the 'Peck Kill'," Tōru winked to a starstruck Hinata, ignoring Daichi's confused mutter of 'Peck?'. "Ready Iwa-Chan?"

Hajime was slower to move than Tōru, more hesitant than his overly confident Captain, but both leant closer to Hitoka's face – lips pressing onto both of her blushing cheeks with precision. Many of the Karasuno players squawked in indignation.

"Nice kill," Hajime congratulated Tōru.

(Kōshi made a mental note to buy Kiyoko some grape juice.)

* * *

 **A/N [17/7/2018] :** Thank you for following me through the past twenty one chapters. I'm going to take a week off now (I have my Graduation Ceremony on Friday, aaAaaAArgh!), but I'll see you on 25/7/2018. We'll be on the home straight then! (Only nine chapters left, ohmygosh-) This honestly has to be the fastest I've pumped out chapters for a full-length story. It really has. Mental.

Anyway, thank you again for reading, following, favouriting, and for reviewing. You dudes are the best, and your comments always make me smile!


	22. Distraction

**A/N [25/7/2018] :** Hello all! I'm back again. Generally because a week of updates it enough to send me fleeing to a dark corner, nine consecutive updates might actually kill me off. So, what I'm going to do is write and upload Chapters 22 – 25/26 (depending on how well the writing for that goes), take three days to momentarily collect my sanity, and then post the remaining chapters.

Sounds like a plan to me.

* * *

 **Heartbreaker? _Pfffsh..._**

* * *

 _Distraction_

* * *

Hitoka feigned illness for as long as she could, blaming the summer heat for her frequently aflame cheeks and ensuing migraines until she no longer could. Or rather, until Kiyoko sweet talked her way into Madoka and Hitoka's apartment and dragged the secondary manager to the remained of summer practice.

"I can't believe I missed it all," Kiyoko uttered, smiling charmingly at a businessman who offered to let them through the door of the convenience store first. The businessman clutched at his tie, gulping audibly.

Needless to say, the Karasuno members present to witness Tōru and Hajime's 'Peck Kill' special move were incredibly confused by it all. Not just the fact that Hitoka had somehow landed a date with a pretty boy and Aobajōsai's Ace, but at the fact that the aforementioned both seemed interested (very interested) in their little manager in return.

Daichi had near had an aneurism when they'd both kissed her – he'd thought that Iwaizumi had more sense than Oikawa, but apparently not. The Ace would be one to watch both on and off the court in future.

Then Coach Ukai had had enough and kicked all of them outside – shortly after Kōshi had paid for the interesting ramen flavour he'd found and would drown his sorrows with later that night. The two from Aobajōsai had quickly dispersed in the wake of a mob of angry teenage crows, and Hitoka had received a string of apologetic texts from Oikawa (and Iwaizumi, surprisingly) later in the evening.

Kiyoko couldn't wrap her head around how absurd things had become in her third year. Would university be that wild, or would she have to wait for Hitoka to graduate and bring the party (and the attractive men) with her?

Kiyoko giggled lightly, cupping her hand over her mouth. "Maybe I should stay for nikuman from now on?"

Hitoka wildly shook her head. "Please d-don't, I can't handle – my heart can't handle much more of this."

Kiyoko lead her around the store, halting at the drinks isle. She perused the shelves, brightening once she discovered three plastic wrapped juice cartons. If Hitoka couldn't tell from the colour of the packaging, then the label explained everything. Grape juice, again.

"These should do," Kiyoko said, patting the cartons. "One for you, one for me, and one for Kōshi…San."

"Was that supposed to be sung?" Hitoka muttered.

Kiyoko shuddered delicately, knowing that the rhyme had fallen flat. "I can't bring myself to drop the honorific, even though he spewed out his innermost feelings the other day."

"When I called you oh-on the train?" Hitoka inquired curiously.

Kiyoko hummed, slipping the now paid for juice cartons in her bag. "I promised I wouldn't say a thing, but Kōshi-San seems to have his own troubles at the moment."

"Because of Daichi-San?" Hitoka usually wouldn't have prodded, after all, she wouldn't like anyone else to barge in on the meetings Kiyoko held – though she supposed Kōshi had been an interloper initially. Part of her was curious though, and it made her a little bolder to ask invasive questions.

Kiyoko pursed her lips. "I suppose you could say it's because of him – though you didn't hear that from me."

"Will it ah-affect the team?" Hitoka asked earnestly. If Kōshi's problems weren't resolved, it could prove to be disastrous should he allow discord to spill over onto the court.

"At this point in time," Kiyoko assured Hitoka as they walked the final stretch towards Karasuno's gym, "I don't think it will alter anything. Kōshi-San is very good at compartmentalising his private life from Volleyball, and he's quick to sort other's issues. I think… I think he's known for a very long time about how he's felt, but he's never really recognised it until now."

Slipping inside through the open gym doors, Hitoka's mouth popped open in shock. Kōshi, aided by Daichi in his stretches, was splayed inches from the ground (torso between his spread legs and nose barely lifted from the wooden flooring) while the Karasuno Captain helped to loosen up the muscles in his back and hips. Only, Kōshi, usually thankful for this gesture, was red faced to a degree that Hitoka had never seen before.

"Good morning," chirped Kiyoko, a subtle smirk on her fact.

Daichi lifted his hands to greet them both – he and Kōshi had arrived early, and the others were yet to appear. Kōshi took the moment of freedom to scramble to his feet and bolt to his water bottle on the other side of the gym.

"Kōshi-San?" Hitoka called. "Would you like some grape juice?"

Kōshi fiercely shook his head.

"If there's some going," interrupted Daichi, "I wouldn't mind a taste."

Kiyoko's smirk only grew more pronounced as she split the cartons between Daichi, Hitoka, and herself. Kōshi shook his head once more, sighing loud enough for them all to overhear.

"So," Daichi began conversationally, cupping the child-size portion carton in his hands. "What was that all about the other day?"

Kiyoko slurped on her straw, just loud enough for everyone to hear how judgemental it sounded without the gesture becoming rude.

Hitoka shrugged, struggling to pierce the film covering the hole for her straw on her own carton. She jabbed at it fretfully for a few moments before Kōshi took pity on her; crossing the gym and spearing straight through. He looked to her balefully, as though she expected him to hold the carton and assist her while she sipped too.

Gingerly, Hitoka took the carton back, expressing her thanks. Kōshi huffed – in the same manner that exasperatedly fond mothers did – and busied himself with setting out equipment for the day.

Throat a little less parched, Hitoka answered; "I'm not su-sure what you mean, Daichi-San?"

"Oikawa and Iwaizumi turning up," the Captain prompted.

"Oh…" Hitoka shrugged her shoulders subtly again. "I think they wanted me to… to date them _more_? But I didn't feel comfortable, and they re-respected my decision."

Daichi looked as though he wanted to ask her in further detail and demand proper answers from Hitoka, but Hinata had come bounding through the doors. With Karasuno's hyperactive ray of sunshine leaping about, there would be no way Daichi would be able to grill Hitoka and keep everything else under control.

Hitoka breathed a faint sigh of relief. If Kiyoko would help her run interference for the next couple of days, maybe they'd all forget about Oikawa and Iwaizumi ever kissing her.

Or… if Karasuno made it that far (and Hitoka hoped with all her heart that they did), then maybe Karasuno would meet Aobajōsai in upcoming matches. However, there were a few more teams to go through before the crows reached that particular confrontation – a fact that Hitoka was glad for, if only to ease the anxious beating of her heart.

* * *

"Oh honestly," Kiyoko sighed, eying the Johzenji player once more as the latter winked at her. He was the pushy, cocky sort; the type with no convictions, only amusement on their mind. And tongue and twiddy ear piercings, _really_? Did he think Kiyoko so weak to body modifications that she'd fall in a flattered heap at his feet?

He wanted to check through her targets, he really did – it might put him back in his place. Tongue piercings. _Ha._ Kiyoko nearly laughed. It would take more than a weedy little stud in Yūji Terushima's mouth to make her melt. She'd gone after an absolute bear of a volleyball player when Kiyoko was Hitoka's age, and she was fairly certain should things have blossomed, that Kiyoko would have seen a lot more than the multiple piercings in his ears and the tell-tale lines of a tattoo curling up the nape of his neck and swirling across his lower back.

Hitoka had it pretty good, Kiyoko mused. Her own predecessor had not been so kind. Kiyoko's own _Boulder_ had been more of a mountain, but if you looked past the crooked nose, piercings, and irrevocable ink on his skin, the guy had been an utter gentleman.

 _It is always the strong-silent ones you have to watch for_ , she mused, wondering if Ushijima would turn out to be the same as her Tetsu. (It had been a long time since she'd last thought about him…)

Thankfully, Nishinoya and Tanaka – Kami bless their brand of lovesick stupidity – were there to save the day once more. They'd been actively blocking Terushima from making another move on either her or Hitoka, and in return, the whole team were fired up in a defence of their girls' honours.

Kiyoko was subtly rather glad things had worked out somewhat for Hitoka and her own _Flirt_ , because if not, and if Kiyoko had changed the target to Terushima at the last moment, then she would effectively be throwing Hitoka into a lion's den. Oikawa had been a predator of women himself – before tying himself down to Iwaizumi, of course – but he at least knew when it was time to stop.

Yūji Terushima had no such restraint, and Hitoka had dithered into Kiyoko's side and the Johzenji captain doggedly pursued the latter. Kiyoko was a dab hand at dealing with annoying pests, so perhaps it had all worked out for the better that Hitoka wasn't involved.

There was one issue, however. Karasuno had blitzed through the opposition, and while both Kiyoko and Hitoka were happy with this, Kiyoko knew that something had to happen soon. Whether it was volleyball or boy related, Kiyoko couldn't be sure, but an ill feeling had overcome her. She felt it fiercely in her bones.

* * *

The feeling – and therein what would inevitably cause it – turned out to be both a result of volleyball and boys. Volleyball Boys, one could say.

Kiyoko should have known really. Karasuno had made it so far, and the Nationals were tantalisingly close. All that stood in their path was a match against Aobajōsai. Should they be able to take down their old foe, Shiratorizawa would be a cinch.

Something she hadn't factored, despite experiencing Karasuno's practice game against Aobajōsai, was how petty Tōru Oikawa could be when he so wished. He and Iwaizumi might not have designs on Hitoka any longer (that was, at least, the impression Kiyoko received as Hitoka had recounted the details to her train wreck of a second date), but that didn't mean he wouldn't use their connection with Hitoka to Aobajōsai's advantage.

It would set tongues wagging and tempers blazing should Oikawa pursue a 'star-crossed lovers' spiel, but alternatively, Hitoka could serve as a decent distraction to Aobajōsai's Captain and Ace up in the stands. It was unfortunate that only one manager was allowed to be present at the courtside, otherwise Kiyoko would have pushed Hitoka to the frontlines. Kiyoko's protégé was coming on leaps and bounds, but she wasn't ready to manage an entire game singlehandedly just yet. The incident earlier with a stray ball flying across the court at the blonde had demonstrated how unaware Hitoka was still of her surroundings.

(Kiyoko's expression, though apathetic-faced – if a little miffed – to others, had struck fear into Hitoka and Kōshi. Kiyoko wouldn't see harm, or a helpless horn dog smack straight into her protégé; it had made her feel pleasantly fuzzy inside (around all her anger) to see one of Aobajosai's own shrink back as she rescued her understudy from a potential broken nose or concussion.)

Still, there would always be a chance for Hitoka to take charge during friendlier tournaments, or perhaps, should Kiyoko feel Hitoka was ready, one of the National games.

"Make as much noise as you can up there," Kiyoko stressed to her manager-in-training while the pair sorted out the Karasuno team's equipment during their pre-match warmup. "I want Oikawa to see you shine, and for him to falter trying to impress you."

'Impress' was possibly not the correct term. 'Terminally terrify' was more likely to occur, what with Oikawa's monster serves.

"I'll do my best?" Hitoka replied, puzzled and a little worried at the prospect of being bait for the day. She was going to cheer for the Karasuno team like she had through all of their games up until this point, but the gymnasium this game was held at was pretty big. Would Oikawa or Iwaizumi even be able to pick her out of the crowd? Would Karasuno hear her cheers of encouragement over the roar of a big crowd?

Hinata shambled past, clutching his stomach. Hitoka winced sympathetically, hands flying to the packet of anti-nausea medication she'd shoved into her pockets for this very occasion. She looked to Kiyoko for direction.

"Go on," the third year told her. "Hinata-Kun looks like he could use some help."

 _Both of our distractions look like they need help,_ Kiyoko thought idly. Hinata-Kun clutched his stomach firmly, dashing to the bathrooms before Hitoka could hand him the medicine. Across the way, Iwaizumi entered the gym to stretch and warm up – nodding subtly to Kiyoko's protégé. Hitoka's knees began to knock.

 _Please,_ Kiyoko looked skywards over the top rim of her glasses. _Please let our distractions be successful._


	23. A Disaster of Hinata-Proportions

**Heartbreaker? _Pfffsh..._**

* * *

 _A Disaster of Hinata-Proportions_

* * *

Much to Kiyoko's relief, Hitoka had played her part beautifully.

She wasn't sure whether it had been intentional, a desperate ploy used to try and scrounge back some points for Aobajōsai, Oikawa's pride and determination spurring him on to do something reckless, or an attempt to leave Karasuno's young manager speechless. What Kiyoko was sure of, however, that Tōru Oikawa crashing into a table all for the sake of one measly volleyball not hitting the ground was extremely excessive.

Kiyoko wondered whether Tooru had looked up at that moment. If he had seen Hitoka there, her midriff pressing against the metal railing separating the higher tier for spectators in the gymnasium from the courts. Her hands, when Kiyoko had checked, had been clamped together over her heart (which, like Kiyoko's own, must have been beating ten to the dozen), and a faint glimmer had been present in Hitoka's wide eyes. Kiyoko could tell, even if she couldn't quite clearly see from where she was situation, that it wasn't just the fluorescent lighting bouncing off of Hitoka's eyes. The girl had been worried enough to drive herself to tears.

If one asked her (and no one had) Kiyoko would say she found it all very ostentatious, but she knew deep down that her own team would go to such lengths if only to keep the ball in play. Unfortunately for Karasuno though, they wouldn't quite pull off crashing about as gracefully and dynamic as Oikawa had.

Well, perhaps 'dynamic', but not in a strangely pleasing way. Hinata had hit the deck enough times for Kiyoko to notice how unattractively even lithe teenage boy's jowls wobbled when they came into contact with a great force, and was such a great show of reckless abandon really worth the bruises – or worse, _friction burns?_

It made Kiyoko's, and everyone else's lives easier when practice or any of Karasuno's games didn't end in injury; and the only one she could say who took their aches and pains on the chin like an absolute champ was Nishinoya. Libero's could take a bettering – otherwise it would be Daichi going above his station as Captain and part of defence and injuring himself. Nishinoya, Kiyoko knew, was strong; the teen took a lot of pride in his role as Libero, and his skill had saved Karasuno countless times.

Oikawa's last hurrah – no matter how flashy and inspiring the action – had been in vain, and with a surge of determination, and the backing of countless proud teammates, supporting figures, and those cheering Karasuno on from the stands, the flightless crows had soared high above Aobajōsai; stealing the match point in the final set.

It had been a hard-won game, but they had done it. Karasuno had beat Aobajōsai.

Hitoka was torn. While she was incredibly proud of her team, and she couldn't have been happier for her boys (and since when had she come to think of them of hers? Perhaps next year, when Kiyoko had departed and Hitoka had full control over managerial duties she could lay claim to them…)

However, seeing the look of utter defeat on Tōru's face had her heart clenching for Aobajōsai's Captain. He'd told her in his continuing string of texts, that it wasn't the Nationals he was concerned about – although for both him and Iwa-Chan, attending such a prestigious tournament in their last year of high school would have been a great boon for his University applications - it was that he wanted to beat Shiratorizawa just this once.

To Oikawa, and by proxy, Aobajōsai, Shiratorizawa had been their rival.

Then along came Karasuno to blindside them all.

Yet despite the pangs of hurt she felt, Hitoka couldn't really find it in herself to comfort him or Iwaizumi over their loss. She was riding on the rush of satisfaction she felt at seeing Karasuno succeed and wondered whether that made her a terrible person. Congratulating Oikawa for a game well-played via text seemed like the biggest dishonour she could muster, and she wouldn't think he'd be up for chatting if the look on his face was anything to go by.

Iwaizumi seemed to be handling Aobajōsai's loss far better than his Captain, though of course, Hajime had a fairly decent poker face at the best of times. If Hitoka hadn't gotten to know the couple better of the last week or so, she may not have noticed how Hajime's brow creased in corner, or how Tōru worried his lip intermittently between his teeth and balled his fists at his sides.

All too soon came the time for Karasuno to return to their school. Their equipment had been packed away, awards and handshakes had been given and offered between both teams, and the guys had all cooled down and stretched out their muscles.

Hitoka regretted not tagging along with Kiyoko to nip to the loos before they left, because now the bus was likely to leave her behind, and she needed a wee desperately, and she was _lost._ How did one get lost in a gymnasium – the like's of which, were rectangular, and therein, had to have some form of looping rectangular layout? The answer, should you be Hitoka Yachi, was 'Very easily.'

The limited signage only directed Hitoka back to where she had started – the seating area for spectators – and unless someone magicked up a bucket for her or a lady's bathroom appeared somewhere along the corridor she was shuffling through, Hitoka wasn't sure how much longer her bladder would hold out.

It was the inevitable result of nerves and her deciding not to take a comfort break during the intervals between sets she supposed, but while Hitoka hadn't wanted to miss a single piece of the action going down on the court, she should have really been keeping check of her own wellbeing too.

Trying to walk with a full bladder, trying not to even think about it or moving water (despite how thirsty she currently felt) was a task in itself. Hitoka was sure she'd had to have made several laps around the gymnasium by now, and still no toilets were in sight. Maybe she should have brought Hinata with her? The ginger-haired teen always managed to find one whenever his stomach played up.

Looking at her surroundings, Hitoka frowned as she caught sigh of the ugliest piece of artwork splayed across the wall. Her mother would have had a fit if she were there too. Whoever had decided that a smirking impression of a sun (or was it the moon?) splayed across a bronze plate and hanging on the monotone, sleek wall was a good idea?

Hitoka's phone buzzed in her pocket – no doubt Kiyoko or Kōshi wondering where she was. There were seats to her left, and Hitoka sat herself down (heavy bladder and all) so that she could reply in some comfort. The strain of holding and attempting to keep her legs crossed had broke an anxious sweat across her forehead.

When footsteps echoed down the hall, instead of looking up and minding her own business, Hitoka near jumped out of her skin. The irrational need to hide her sweaty and pained face from the world superseded her logical notion to just pay no mind to whomever it was, and Hitoka found herself ducking amongst the rows upon rows of fixed grey seats.

Through the cracks between the seats, Hitoka gingerly surveyed who was coming. To her relief, it was Tōru. Then she remembered she was hiding, and that it would look bizarre if she just leapt out from nowhere to speak with him. Would he think her a stalker?

Ultimately, the decision was torn out of Hitoka's hands by the arrival of a second person in the open waiting area she had found herself in. Hitoka's phone buzzed in her pocket once more, and she quietly shushed the device – as though she could silence the inanimate object in the same manner one could an unruly five-year-old.

Wakatoshi Ushihijima had appeared on the scene.

Hitoka tucked her head out of the way, smoothing a hand over her side ponytail to clamp it against her head – she really didn't want to give herself away, no matter how hard her bladder ached. Hitoka wasn't going to move a muscle; it was bad enough that Oikawa had turned up to potentially catch her in such a state, but at least he'd be polite enough not to mention anything. With Ushijima there again – with _Boulder_ and _Flirt_ squaring off against one another her there in the middle of the two – Kiyoko's well laid plans could go awry.

(Hitoka hadn't been briefed about fisticuffs before dawn, or what to in the presence of two targets – one she had been actively pursuing for the past week and a half. Hiding was her only option.)

The two spoke in civil, hushed tones, and despite the size and emptiness of the waiting area, Hitoka heard nothing of what Ushijima and Oikawa had to say to one another. She would have thought Oikawa tense, if only for the exaggerated way he used his body while talking; wafting hands, a supple, assured smile on his face, and intense – yet somehow soft – eyes locked onto Ushijima all conveying Tōru Oikawa as a pleasant, confident individual. Ushijima was harder to read. His face hadn't changed in the last five minutes.

Hitoka swallowed, and with surprise she found her urge to go to the loo forgotten. (She knew that trying her luck on the bus ride back to school would end in a disaster of Hinata-proportions though and would have to attempt to find a bathroom before then.)

The two Captain's talk ended… Hitoka really wasn't sure how it ended, honestly. If anything, Ushijima's expression had soured more so that it had originally been, and Oikawa was projecting just the right amount of saccharine venom in his departing words.

Ushijima balled his fists as Oikawa turned his back, and not long after Aobajōsai's Captain, left the waiting area thankfully in the opposite direction to Tōru. Hitoka allowed herself a minute to breathe and collect herself before she ran (as fast as she could without her discomfort returning) back after Tōru.

"Oikawa-San!" She called breathlessly, almost skidding on the polished linoleum flooring.

He stilled, turning his head to peer over the top of his right shoulder. "Hoshi-Chan?"

"You… you did really well," Hitoka stumbled, idling closer to him. "Both you and Iwaizumi-San. I was so sure you'd get those last points."

Tōru's smile had many hidden meanings within it. Pleasure that she had sought him out, bitterness over his loss and the possibility that she could be rubbing Karasuno's victory in his face, and the severe sting of defeat. He swallowed, breathing in sharply through his nose.

"Doing well just wasn't enough today though," he told her softly.

"You-You'll play in University, right Oikawa-San?"

Tōru shifted uncomfortably on his feet, testing the weight on the leg he had injured prior to Karasuno's practice match with Aobajōsai way before Hitoka's involvement in the club. "You can call me Tōru, Hoshi-Chan," he told her, completely ignoring the subject.

"You'll not give up, right?" Hitoka questioned more insistently this time. She felt uncomfortable, and bloated, and subtly shifted one leg before the other; pressing her thighs together unsurely, because she didn't know whether it was the conversation or the return of an impending bathroom break causing the sensation. (It was likely the latter.) "Both you and Iwaizumi-San?"

"I think, Hoshi-Chan," Tōru began, brushing a stray lock of Hitoka's fringe back into place with his fingertips, "that you would have made Hajime and I very happy, and we in return for you."

 _That's all very nice,_ Hitoka thought sourly, _but it really doesn't answer my question._

Hitoka's phone buzzed in her pocket more insistently – whoever it was trying to get in contact with her had resorted to calling her number over texting, seeing as she ignored the previous flurry of messages. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, staring dumbly at the lit-up screen.

"You should probably answer that," Tōru stated.

Hitoka nodded, and then shoved her phone back into her pocket. With a chagrined smile, she asked him, "Would you happen to know where the bathrooms are? Only, I got rea-really lost and–"

"Shittykawa," Iwaizumi barked. "We were supposed to leave half an hour ago. We're waiting on _you_." He dipped his head, acknowledging Hitoka as she jiggled on the spot.

"I was just showing Hoshi-Chan to the bathrooms," Tōru interjected smoothly, looping his arm through Hitoka's. Iwaizumi seemed momentarily appeased.

 _Good_ , Hitoka agreed. _Because if I stand here any longer, I may actually wet myself._

"Let's get a move on then," Hajime asserted.

"My my, Iwa-Chan, so eager to get Hoshi-Chan and I alone in a bathroom stall?"

Oikawa wasn't quick enough to avoid the punch aimed at his head. He was still sulking over the growing bump on the top of his head, standing guard outside of the bathroom with Hajime while they waited for the girl they had begun to think of as 'theirs' to emerge.

Walking between them to the parking lot outside of the gymnasium, Hitoka couldn't help but harken back to only a few days before, when she had first met Tōru and Hajime. Unlike that time though, as they led her to Karasuno's minibus, it felt odd. Like this would be the last time she could happily stand with either of them and feel welcomed in return.

She could not, however, dwell on that feeling. Karasuno would be facing Shiratorizawa the next day, and Hitoka and Kiyoko had some major planning and errands to do.


	24. Fozzie Bear

**A/N [28/7/2018] :** Apologies for the later uploading time. Yesterday had been... a day... I wrote this in an hour. Chapter 25 should be up at normal time tomorrow, and then I'm going to take a short three-day break - so I'll see you next on [1/8/2018]!

* * *

 **Heartbreaker? _Pfffsh..._**

* * *

Fozzie _Bear_

* * *

It appeared that for the first time in a long while, Hitoka (and Kiyoko – but when was she ever ruffled?) was the only one who's knees weren't knocking – nor did she feel sick to her stomach. A calmness had settled over her. Yes, she was concerned for the (extremely) nervous Karasuno players; they had never made it so far into a tournament before, so who wouldn't be when you were to be pitted against the team whom dominated the entire prefecture's schools combined?

So, Hitoka was nervous _for_ them, but she wasn't a jittering wreck herself. Seeing Yamaguchi go to pieces had sobered Hitoka right up, and her own trembling had dissolved into intermittent jumpiness as she prioritised being a manager over panicking.

Shiratorizawa were not going to back down without a fight. From the notes both she and Kiyoko had compiled throughout the last few weeks – often during Hitoka's 'Confidence' lessons when Kōshi departed, or when boy-talk became too tedious – had been helpful in the end, and Coach Ukai had talked the team through strategy and what he knew of Shiratorizawa's regulars once they'd returned from the match with Aobajōsai.

Somehow though, it just didn't seem _enough_.

Karasuno had a lot riding on this match, and the weight of the knowledge that Aobajōsai had gone against Shiratorizawa for three years in a row – and had lost, consecutively, two times (three, thanks to Karasuno inadvertently throwing a spanner in the works) – was a heavy burden on the mind. Therefore, everyone was a little jittery today, even the unflappable Tsukishima.

However, should Karasuno loose at this tantalisingly close hurdle, it would be the farthest they had managed to get in years. 'Farthest-but-not-quite' wasn't exactly the outcome the boys wanted today however, and Hitoka knew they would give it their all when upon that court.

"Yamaguchi-Kun," Hitoka gained the teen's attention as she zipped up her holdall. "D-do you best out there, okay?"

Tadashi's cheeks coloured, but it was a far sight better than the sallow pallor he had been wearing moments earlier – his freckles complimented his skin better with the flush; no longer contrasting sharply with his bloodless cheeks.

"We'll try our best, Yachi-San."

Hitoka's smile wobbled as it stretched across her face. First Oikawa and now Yamaguchi? What was all this 'try' business and deflecting their obvious talent? Hitoka had seen Tadashi at work during practice, and she knew that he trained outside of club hours too – why would he not acknowledge the skills he'd cultivated since first joining the club?

(Hitoka really, really hadn't noticed how hypocritical it sounded of her to think that, especially since she had come on leaps and bounds since Hinata had roped her into club duties…)

"You'll be great," Hitoka's smile was firmer this time. "I know it."

Leaving Yamaguchi speechless and still kneeling on the gymnasium floor (it was the same one that Karasuno had played in yesterday, and Hitoka now knew the full layout of the building thanks to her panicked wandered from the day before,) Hitoka gathered up her bag and deposited it beside Kiyoko, Takeda-Sensei and Coach Ukai. The three were making last minute arrangements around the bench they would be seated on for the duration of the game.

"Are we all sorted?" Takeda-Sensei inquired softly. His voice had a strange, lilting quality, punctuated by his forwards expressions and hand gestures. It was rather endearing, actually – especially since the teacher appeared to be very clumsy. (Hitoka could relate.)

Hitoka's face and the manner in which it was scrunched said it all.

"Oh dear…" Takeda-Sensei sighed. "Have they all gone to pieces?"

Watching the Karasuno team shamble through their warmups would have been funny should one not know about their situation or the pressure they felt to succeed. To Hitoka and everyone in the know though, it all looked rather painful.

Hitoka had been doing her best to keep her head low and had been darting about – stopping in one place long enough for a task to be accomplished and nary a second longer – just in case Ushijima recognised her. As it stood, both he and the rest of the Shiratorizawa team were keeping to themselves. They appeared tranquil and assured in their victory.

And why wouldn't they? Ushijima possessed the power to lead them to victory for the third time in a row. His team had no need for fear when they had him there, muscling his way through with, well, his muscles.

 _That's quite a flattering shade of purple,_ Hitoka thought, idling on the spot as she admired Shiratorizawa's uniforms from afar.

One of the Shiratorizawa starters noticed her staring, his eyes widening in recognition; the red-head pulled on the hem of his Captain's shirt.

"What is it, Tendō?" Ushijima asked sharply. Sometimes, dealing with Tendō Satori was like trying to wrangle a caffeinated, sugar-crazed child. (You didn't. You let nature take its cause or ignored the issue completely.)

"Look, it's Coffee-girl!"

"Excuse me?"

"Coffee-girl!" Tendō (rather rudely) pointed to Hitoka, who had noticed him gesturing her way and was fretting over where she could not possibly hide. "Y'know, the blonde you spilt my coffee all over – the one you haven't shut up about since –"

"Yes, Tendō, enough," Ushijima interjected, turning in the direction Tendō was pointing. It was, indeed, the so-called Coffee-girl at the other end of the gym. He could recognise that hair and the awkward manner with which she hid herself away without _actually_ finding anything to hide behind. Although, Wakatoshi was sure that her hair had been separated into two bound tails the last time he had met her, not whatever that distracting tuft to the left side of her head was.

How she could hide herself in plain sight though – that had to be a skill. If she were on a volleyball team, it would have been a powerful asset for sneaking in a few points, but alas, the Shiratorizawa style of play leant itself to brute force over mental games (though Tendō dabbled effortlessly with the latter.)

"Didn't you say she hit you in the head with a box of tam-"

"Enough, Satori," snipped Shiratorizawa's coach before Ushijima could respond, drawing the players in for a last-minute talk.

Across the gym, Hitoka let the breath she didn't know she'd been holding go. Her limbs felt shaky, like the Karasuno team had cast off their nerves and she had soaked up all the tense energy like a barren sponge. So much for laying low and not being recognised…

"Alright," Coach Ukai clapped his hands together a couple of times to catch their attention. He nodded to Takeda-Sensei, who, stood beside Ukai's hulking frame, appeared quite diminutive. "Gather round, Sensei's got something to tell you."

Hitoka could honestly say she didn't hear a word of Takeda-Sensei's uplifting speech, or Coach Ukai's final strategies for the first set. Throughout the entire talk she was distracted by the sensation of eyes on the back of her neck. Rubbing absently at the exposed skin, Hitoka pivoted round shortly after Coach Ukai dismissed them, not expecting the entire Shiratorizawa team to be watching her. (The red-head was bouncing excitedly beside Ushijima, a pleased smirk on his face.)

"Is there a problem, Yachi-Chan?" Daichi asked.

"I… don't think so…?" She replied, as the pair watched Shiratorizawa as Shiratorizawa watched _her_.

"Should I go over there and… _speak_ with them?"

Kōshi, having overheard the pair's hushed talk and seeing Shiratorizawa's (creepy) staring for himself, slapped his hand against Daichi's back. His aim had been slightly off though – call it nerves – and his palm hit lower than intended.

"Suga!" Daichi squeaked ( _'squeaked'?_ Hitoka echoed), one palm clamping over the spot Kōshi had slapped. "Watch where you're putting your hands!"

"Leave it for them on the court, Dai-Chan. If they've got a problem with Hitoka, then they can sort it once we've won," Kōshi returned, trying not to act as though he was at all bothered about just slapping his Captain straight across one arse cheek.

Hitoka was pleased to see that Kōshi, as Vice Captain of the team, seemed to be more confident and put together than the rest of the boys. Though it was possibly the case that Kōshi was used to burying the more unsavoury elements of his personality or he'd had more practice at thinking happy thoughts. He had been the one to banish Asahi's 'Negativity Goatee', after all.

"I've got a feeling that red haired one will be trouble," Kōshi mumbled, motherly danger-senses tingling.

Daichi hummed. The Shiratorizawa players – knowing they had been caught in the act at being creepy – had dispersed off into smaller, subtler groups. Only the red-head, and their (long-suffering) Captain, remained watching Hitoka and Karasuno. The red-head even had the audacity to _wave_ at Hitoka, causing the girl to 'Eeep!' and burry herself closer into Suga' side.

"Do you know them, Yachi-Chan?" Said Daichi in a conversational tone. He was, however, speculating as to how Hitoka managed to keep drawing high-level volleyball players towards her. Did she had a very big magnet stuffed in that sports holdall she lugged round with her or something?

"I m-met Ushijima-San a few… weeks? A few weeks ago, when he spi-spilt coffee on me-" Daichi growled defensively at her words, "- _accidentally!_ And then I saw him ah-again in a bookstore, and a convenience store…"

(She omitted the part where she'd launched a box of sanitary products at his face.)

Daichi cracked his knuckles, then his neck. "Sounds like a stalker to me."

Hitoka threw a defeated look at Kōshi, who sighed and picked up her slack. He took Daichi by the arm, leading him towards the other Karasuno players. They had fifteen minutes until the game started, and once sufficiently warmed up now was the time to make any last-minute trips to the bathroom. Hinata and half of the players suffering with a sudden attack of feeling sick to their stomach, had bolted to the loos.

"I'm sure it was all just a coincidence. Japan is allowed to roam free sometimes, you know?" Kōshi pet Daichi's arm reassuringly. "Third-best in Japan or not, he's still – hopefully – human."

"I just don't like how they're staring at her-"

"How do we know that his eyesight isn't just bad with distance?" Kōshi questioned, wondering if _Boulder_ would look less intimidating in a pair of glasses, or like a child's pet-rock playing dress up. Probably the latter, or the glasses would shatter in fear before they so much as touched the bridge of his nose.

Daichi snorted. "I wish. It'd make playing against them easier."

Seeing Kōshi's (handsy) blunder had made Hitoka feel a little better about herself. Even confident people could get it spectacularly wrong sometimes. Then, Hitoka stilled, and looked closer at the way Kōshi twined his arm around Daichi's own. Though Kōshi was rather close and Daichi didn't seem to mind, he didn't look completely comfortable with leaning a little nearer to the Captain.

 _Oh._ A little bell dinged in Hitoka's head. _I'm happy for him, then._

(Daichi would one day wake up and sense the attraction, and all would be well. Until then, Kōshi would have to uncomfortably pine and mope about his feelings during Hitoka's lessons for the upcoming weeks.)

It was time for Hitoka to make her way to the stands, but to do so she would have to walk precariously close to Shiratorizawa's side of the gym. She took a few deep breaths, tucked her chin close to her chest, fiddled with her hair, and _walked._

"Look! _Look!_ It's Coffee-girl!" A voice cried, making Hitoka jump on the spot just as she thought she'd made it past them all.

"Tendō," Ushijima grumbled. He nodded politely to Hitoka; "Hello again."

"H-hello- J- _Japan_!" Hitoka blurted, clamping her hands over her mouth in horror and colouring quicker than a child with a box of new crayons. If he had any doubt over which school – and team – she was supporting, there wasn't any left now. Only Hinata (and by extension the Karasuno Boys Volleyball Club, who'd been conditioned into calling Ushijima as such) had the audacity to screech the moniker.

"I am Ushijima Wakatoshi," Ushijima corrected, raising his eyebrow and expecting her to introduce herself in return.

Flustered, Hitoka tried to reiterate what he had just told her; "Ushijima Wa-wa, Waka-Waka – "

"Eh?" Tendō snickers. "Wasn't that one a Muppet?"

Hitoka cringed, bowed respectfully – if abruptly – and sprinted to the gym's exit before she could shove her foot any further down her mouth.

"Well," Tendō planted his hands on his hips, and tilted his head cheekily on an angle. "That went well."


	25. My Mother Doesn't Like You

**Heartbreaker? _Pfffsh..._**

* * *

 _My Mother Doesn't Like You…_

 _(…And She Likes Everyone.)_

* * *

With one final, triumphant point, the Karasuno Boys Volleyball team almost collapsed in shock. They had done it.

They had _actually_ done it!

Saeko – Tanaka's older sister, who had turned up to support the team – had to grab hold of Hitoka to make sure she didn't fall in a limp heap by her feet. Tears, hot and prideful, began to roll down Karasuno and their supporter's cheeks as victorious yells filled the air.

Yamaguchi had taken what Hitoka had said to him to heart, and she couldn't be prouder. Was this how Kiyoko felt whenever she helped the team in secretive, minute ways – outside of enamouring the opposition, of course? Because if so, Hitoka rather liked the way her encouragements paying off lit up her inside with warm fuzziness.

Unlike with Aobajōsai, though more importantly, Iwaizumi and Oikawa, Hitoka didn't feel a single shred of remorse over her team's win. It stemmed from not really knowing Ushijima and the rest of Shiratorizawa's players all that well, she supposed. While they were gracious in their loss (though it was hard to tell with Ushijima's stiff expressions), Shiratorizawa were gutted. With Ushijima on their side, they had been assured a third win. They were a team of pure white birds – destined to dominate and shine. To be pipped to the post by a mob of upstart crows was unthinkable, and Shiratorizawa's players would take away one very important lesson form this match: underestimation could get you defeated. Be wary of who you dismiss.

Either way, Hitoka was happy with the result. She slapped at her face to rouse some sense into her body; the floaty, somnambulant sensation she was feeling hadn't subsided yet and she wished for reality to ground her firmly to the floor.

Flinging herself away from Saeko, she hurried out of the gymnasium's stands and down to the courtside. Kiyoko would need a second pair of hands to help wrangle everyone into cool downs and to distribute energy drinks, snacks, and towels. Before that though, they would each have to subject themselves to a fierce (and uncharacteristic) Hitoka Yachi hug.

Skidding down the hall, Hitoka stumbled to a halt. Iwaizumi and Oikawa were also just leaving the stadium.

"Congrats!" Tōru beamed, though his grin didn't quite meet his eyes. Behind his spectacles lay the gaze of someone wary and hurting. Of course, his pride had been wounded by Karasuno the previous day, but upon taking in Hitoka's ludicrous joy, a single spark of something that Hitoka couldn't identity helped to lighten Oikawa's mood. (Second-hand revenge, might have been one interpretation, seeing as Karasuno had been the ones to knock Shiratorizawa off their perch.)

"We're going to the Nationals…" Hitoka told them quietly, as though she didn't quite believe it herself.

"You all did really well," Hajime agreed, nudging Tōru. "We came to watch."

Oikawa's mouth opened in protest – something along the lines of 'I just found myself here. Not that I wanted to watch' – but he was cowed by Iwaizumi's narrow glare. He instead settled for, "You've got a lot of work ahead of you for Nationals."

Hitoka gulped. "We'll… we'll do it though."

"I know you will," Tōru conceded.

"I didn't know you-you'd be here today. You could have c-come to sit with me and the others," Hitoka told them.

"Shittykawa just wanted to see who would lose," Hajime intoned dryly. "Didn't even want to hang around for the awards ceremony, can you believe it?"

Hitoka, playing along with Hajime's debasing of Tōru's character, smiled knowingly. "How touching," she said.

Oikawa pouted. "We've only known you properly for two weeks, and you're already ganging up on me with Iwa-Chan. What happened to the frightened little star we met at the planetarium?"

Hitoka blinked dumbly, and Oikawa fiddled with the sleeves of his navy-blue coat. Finally, he said; "Well, I guess you decided it was time to shine brighter, huh?"

Hajime had been checking his phone for available bus and train times. "We should get going if you want to catch the next one."

Waving goodbye for one last time, the pair left Hitoka completely alone in the corridor, and try as she might, she couldn't get her feet to take single step. In all her jubilation, she had forgot to stop and think whether they would let anyone run onto the court – even the assistant manager. It was probably best that she waited until the teams were done shaking hands and receiving their awards before she congratulated anyone.

With that, Hitoka slowly made her way back up to the stands, telling Saeko that she had simply rushed to the toilet instead of providing a long-winded story. The older woman seemed to take it in her stride, despite how twitchy and dismayed Hitoka looked, and cheered a little louder during Karasuno's round of applause to bolster Hitoka's half-hearted yells.

* * *

"See! See?" Daichi hissed. "He's doing it again."

"Doing what again?" Kōshi mumbled through his (gritted) smiling teeth, waving up to Karasuno's supporters in the crowd.

"He's watching her again – not the… what did you say his name was again?"

"Oh? The weird one?" Kōshi asked, and Daichi hummed. "Who's watching who?"

"Japan is watching Yachi-Chan again."

Kōshi, frowning now, inquired as to how Daichi knew this. The latter huffed; shuffling his feet sheepishly. "Because I was watching him through the game, and every time he looked up, he was looking at her."

Formalities over, it was time for Karasuno to move into the changing rooms and sort themselves out for the drive back home – though Takeda-Sensei had insisted that he treat them all to a hearty dinner.

"I did say he might have trouble seeing over distance," Kōshi pointed out, though he was starting to get at what Daichi was saying; Ushijima's staring was becoming a little creepy – and the stunt Shiratorizawa had pulled before the game had even begun had set his own teeth one edge. "Maybe he was using the stands as a focal point."

Daichi shook his head, "He was definitely looking at Hitoka."

Kōshi halted in his action of trying to pull his shirt over his head. It resulted in his collar trapped around his hair, like a nun's wimple. "That's the first time I've heard you call Hitoka-Chan by her first name."

"Yeah, well, you do it," Daichi chuckled. "I've picked up a lot of things from you over the years, Suga."

 _If only,_ Kōshi thought bitterly to himself. He was shaken from his thoughts by a hand slapping gently against his rump.

"Thanks, Sugamama."

Face no doubt colouring, Kōshi answered, "Anytime, Dadchi."

"I still think we need an intervention though," Daichi insisted, the topic of their conversation immediately turning back to Daichi's protective streak over Hitoka, which was, coincidentally, about a mile wide.

Kōshi exhaled heavily. Just when he thought he was getting somewhere…

* * *

Having nearly been flattened by a leaping Nishinoya and Tanaka, Hitoka decided against all physical forms of congratulations. She'd seen the way the boys would high-five each other too and didn't fancy a cracked wrist partway through the school year. Plus, casts were _itchy_.

She smiled whenever she caught the Karasuno team looking; nodding along eagerly as Hinata babbled to her about the match (as though she hadn't been there, watching every moment) and refrained from cringing when Kageyama cast his smile upon the world. She didn't even shy away from Asahi as he bumbled past, offering him a squeaky 'Well done!'

Their celebratory dinner was a raucous affair. Takeda-Sensei had one too many beers, Coach Ukai didn't know where to put himself as the teacher began to doze against his arm, Hinata almost choked on what he was scoffing down quickly, and Daichi kept looking at Hitoka weirdly. All in all, a typical Karasuno outing, but one that was, in a sense, ramped up with further insanity.

"Ushijima isn't going to give you any trouble, is he?" Daichi probed, as the team were encouraged to make their way home while Coach Ukai hefted Takeda-Sensei into the minivan with the sole intention of dropping the teacher back at his apartment.

Hitoka shook her head. "It ree-really was a coincidence, Daichi-San."

"Good," Daichi nodded to himself. "I don't think my heart can take any more unexpected visitors turning up at practice for you."

* * *

After texting her mother – who was away on business, again – to inform her of Krasuno's victory and that she had returned home safely, Hitoka plopped down onto the sofa in their living room. Her hair stuck out like a disarrayed stack of straw, her gym clothes tight and clammy. Her legs and arms felt heavy, and they largely played a factor in Hitoka's decision to loll limply on the couch than going to bathe.

It had been exhausting – but rewarding. Hitoka was tired. Still, she gathered a little strength and meandered to the bathroom; a shower would help her relax, and she would feel better taking one now than in the morning when she'd become even more of an unappealing mess overnight.

The heat of the water and the wafting steam made her sigh; her muscles soothing under her ministrations and the warmth. She scrubbed at her hair, resolute to blow-dry it properly afterwards before she slept, instead of allowing it to dry into a multitude of abstract, untameable directions.

The only thing that could complete the ensemble of a warm shower and cleanliness was a set of comfortable, freshly laundered pyjamas. Hitoka, wrapping her body firmly in a fuzzy towel, sought out the latter; padding along the hallway while the bathroom demisted to dress herself. She dug out a light, fleecy dressing gown, which – once dressed and with her hair dried – she put on too. It had been warm of late, but autumn was a season for rainy cool days. Today had not been like that weather-wise, but Hitoka bundled herself up anyway.

The fabrics held within them a comfort – like the reassurance of a hug or being tucked firmly into bed at night as a child to keep the monsters from crawling under the blankets after you. It was still far too early to contemplate going to sleep, despite Hitoka's fatigue (which was, in itself, more of a need to unwind than to nap). She made her way back to the living room, switching on the television, and then to the kitchen to fix herself a hot drink.

Tea brewed and trapped in a thick ceramic mug that Hitoka couldn't quite wrap her hands around – and that she could leech even more warmth from – Hitoka sat down once more; comfortable and refreshed.

She sipped without a cause, flicking through the channel guide and finding nothing she desired to watch before finally landing on a cheesy television movie she had seen before. It wasn't the greatest or entertaining film out there, but it would do. Hitoka couldn't be bothered to move and bring a DVD out from her room to watch – she'd even left her bag by the coffee table in the living room, instead of taking it with her to her bedroom while she showered and changed.

Hitoka wondered whether her mother had text back yet, draining the rest of her tea and placing the mug down on the table before reaching for her phone. She had, though her reply was brief. She maybe had a dinner-date-slash-meeting she was going to then, Hitoka thought, and had replied when she had the fleeting opportunity to do so.

There was, however, another text waiting in Hitoka's inbox.

* * *

 **To:** Yachi Hitoka

 **From:** [UNKOWN NUMBER]

19:47 PM

I HEARD YOUR TEAM GOT THROUGH

CONGRATS YA-CHAN!

* * *

There was only one person (that Hitoka knew of) who called her 'Ya-Chan'. Confused, she typed out a slow reply:

* * *

 **To:** [UKNOWN NUMBER]

 **From:** Yachi Hitoka

20:08 PM

I'm sorry, but is that you Bokuto-San?

How did you get my number?

* * *

A seemingly instantaneous reply nearly caused her to drop her phone from fright – Hitoka was glad she had finished her tea off before she'd decided to text, otherwise she would be changing her pyjamas and mopping up liquid from the sofa and the cream rug spread underneath the coffee table.

* * *

 **To:** Yachi Hitoka

 **From:** [UKNOWN NUMBER]

20:11 PM

HINATA MESSAGED KENMA WHO MESSAGED KUROO WHO MESSAGED ME ABOUT YOUR WIN

I GOT YOUR NUMBER FROM HINATA THROUGH THAT LOT

SORRY

* * *

Hitoka wasn't sure how she felt about this… and what was with the Caps lock?

* * *

 **To:** Bokuto Kotaro

 **From:** Yachi Hitoka

20:16 PM

It's fine. I was just a bit surprised.

20:16 PM

I'm actually really tired, Bokuto-San, so I think I'm going to try and get some sleep.

Good night.

* * *

 **To:** Yachi Hitoka

 **From:** Bokuto Kotaro

20:17PM

NIGHT YA-CHAN

* * *

Hitoka fled to her room and slept fitfully. Owls, eagles, and aliens haunted her dreams.

* * *

 **A/N [28/7/2018] :** This is the last chapter for this set. I'm feeling really low energy at the moment, and everyone is kinda down at the moment with all the hot weather in the UK (it seems petty to those from a warmer climate, I know, but our summers are usually always wet, and never reach above 21C)

I'll see you all for the last five chapters on [1/8/18]!


	26. Discombobulated Drama

**[1/8/2018] :** I'm baaaa-aaaaaack~! Kind of a filler chapter, but things kick off later on. Sorry for the references from multiple scenes of the play, just felt that it was nice to showcase different parts – even if, technically, they shouldn't match.

We're on the home run now, dudes. [5/8/2018] will be the date the last chapter is released. Oh my gosh…

* * *

 **Heartbreaker? _Pfffsh..._**

* * *

 _Discombobulated Drama_

* * *

To Kiyoko's upmost surprise, Hitoka had appeared to have gained a detailed guard of Karasuno volleyball players – though she had discovered so at the expense of her lunch break earlier on that day. Though, she had realised once tucked up in her bed that night, that there was probably good reason for the guard. Even Kiyoko herself hadn't had such luck with her targets.

Coach Ukai had extended to the team a few days to recuperate; that meant supposedly taking it easy, celebrating heading to the Nationals with friends and classmates (though Hinata constantly had the rip taken out of him, seeing as his classmates couldn't quite believe he was an official member of the team), and generally trying to turn their minds away from volleyball.

Not that it helped Hinata and Kageyama, but the others were glad for a reprieve. Only, in their downtime, Daichi had roped the more excitable players (and even Yamaguchi – weirdly) into a private talk.

Kōshi watched with narrowed eyes and a tight smile as the Captain waved to him as soon as the lunch bell rang; rising from his seat and descending the floors of the school to collect those he had cherry-picked to chat with. Kōshi became so suspicious that he traipsed down the hall with his lunch in hand, tapped Kiyoko on the shoulder – loudly suggesting they should eat together, at the expense of the Karasuno rumour mill taking that titbit and running wild – and asking her to spy on Daichi's little meeting.

They weren't being discreet, but anyone who chanced upon the conspicuous group in the hall (clustered by the vending machines just before the lunch hall) would have presumed it was volleyball related and leave it at that. No nefarious undertones there. None at all.

(Kōshi knew better.)

"So," Daichi stated to his amassed followers – Noya, Tanaka, and Yamaguchi. "We have a real problem on our hands. I found it weird back at the training camp, and when Oikawa turned up at the gates, but now Ushijima? Something isn't right."

Nishinoya and Tanaka could relate, seeing as they kept watchful eyes over Kiyoko and likely would until the third year graduated in the spring. Perhaps, even, beyond that point. One simply didn't loose sight of the eye of your affections. Yamaguchi, new to the 'caring for a team' experience, didn't like how Daichi's statements sat with him.

Hitoka was someone small, and always scared, and precious – and Tadashi was only just beginning to notice the finer facets of her character. Kei thought he was mental, but if that was what burgeoning love did to you, then Tadashi would happily suffer insanity for Hitoka Yachi. Too bad she didn't seem to notice how he looked at her. Or anyone else for that matter. Oikawa had been one thing but Ushijima?

Ushijima was another matter entirely, despite Karasuno beating them the other day – and that Pinch Serve, though mainly for Kei and Karasuno's sake, had never felt so sweet. Ushijima was a lot of things that Tadashi was not… and Hitoka was so small. What would she see in someone like that? _Did she see anything at all?_

"I say, should something like this happen again," Daichi continued, "That we stage an intervention."

A series of understanding nods reinforced his words, and Kōshi only just held back his urge to groan in frustration. He'd thought that maybe Daichi would let his paranoia over Hitoka go, but obviously that wasn't going to occur any time soon.

Beside him Kiyoko plucked her glasses from her nose, rubbed the lenses with the ribbed hem of her sweater vest, and perched them back on the skim bridge of her nose. With the fleeting glance Kōshi spared her, he was certain that she slid them back into the comfortable spot on her nose with her middle finger.

The pair had taken the longer route around the school to position themselves underneath the open window on the ground floor – closest to the vending machines – where Daichi and the others had congregated. Kōshi couldn't believe what he was hearing. Daichi was now suggesting they employ Ennoshita (who was fairly good at tinkering with cameras and technological bits and bobs) to make a (or _multiple_ ) motorised volleyball canon that Karasuno could turn on potential Hitoka-predators. Soon this plan had dissolved, though only because Nishinoya suggested feeding Hinata and Kageyama on thrice their daily sugar intake and setting them loose on intruders.

Kiyoko had quietly snorted at that, and the group inside's conversation halted. Kōshi dared not to breathe. Then –

"We're agreed then? Something has to be done?" Daichi questioned. (Kōshi could finally breathe again… Kiyoko daintily unwrapped the plastic covering on her bread, and took a gentle bite from it, raising her eyebrows at his melodrama.)

"It's weird," Tanaka agreed. Something that sounded very much like the joints in one's neck popping as said neck was cracked resounded from inside. "Kiyoko-San is fond of Yachi-Chan, so we'll keep any eye out."

"Same," Nishinoya added.

"Yamaguchi?" Daichi inquired.

"I-I uh," Tadashi sputtered. "I'll help too."

Daichi rubbed the palms of his hands together. "Great. Let's hope we don't have to do anything though."

Their retreating footsteps complimented the staccato beating of Kōshi's heart. "That was too close for comfort," he sighed. Kiyoko didn't comment further, but the mocking arch of her eyebrows said it all. "Okay, maybe not."

* * *

Hitoka, meanwhile, was completely unaware of the Hitoka Yachi Protection Association's first meeting, or the covert self-imposed mission Kōshi had made Kiyoko tag along to. With her downtime fully intended to be spent on her studies and a little bit of relaxation and recuperation, Hitoka had brought with her a healthy lunch that she'd had time to make herself that morning without having to worry over organising things for the club, and her half-read copy of _Twelfth Night_ which she was trying to finish.

She wasn't one to dog ear pages or annotate margins, but the plot had drawn her in enough once the initial confusion subsided. Therein, Hitoka had taken a nice bright highlighter to particular passages that caught her eye.

Most of the lines were now marked with wobbly scratchings of orange highlighter pen and mechanical pencil annotations. She'd even found a few book tabs in her desk draw at home, pinpointing different scenes that Hitoka favoured. Currently, Hitoka was rereading Cesario and Olivia's first meeting, and wondering how it was both so wrong and so right.

Sort of like her own life, really.

She'd slept fretfully the night before, bothered by Bokuto's out-of-the-blue text. Caps lock typed messages swam before her eyes whenever she checked through her inbox, searching for a hidden clue about why he was possibly getting in contact with her now of all times. Sure, Hinata was a likely accomplice – and the Nekoma regulars too – but there had to be some other meaning.

Hitoka didn't think she had the heart to hope there was a message, and that she wasn't _worthy_ of one. They'd parted amicably, and that was that. She had one target still to rid herself of, and the club needed her attention now more than ever. She'd couldn't afford to hope. Too much rested on her shoulders for the moment. She couldn't afford to hope…

Hitoka sighed, closing her copy of the play. She picked idly at her nicely presented bento; chopsticks shifting through the fluffy rice, splitting the egg rolls, and idling over a few octopi-shaped sausages she'd nearly sliced her fingers off preparing that morning. Perhaps this was how her mother felt whenever there was a deadline – too distracted, too _wound up_ to eat.

Maybe, Hitoka thought, she should speak with Kiyoko and Kōshi before they went home for the day. Hitoka wasn't listed for classroom clean-up duty, and she sat close enough to the rear exit of the room that the teacher wouldn't pick on her to help with menial tasks after the bell rang. Her homework had all been handed in that morning, so there was nothing really to stop Hitoka from just diving from her seat once she was dismissed.

Kiyoko would have some words of advice, and maybe Kōshi would smile and make everything better again. They still had to take her out for a treat at the café Kiyoko had recommended – having been too busy to do so in the past few weeks. Heck, Hitoka would drag them there and pay for everyone's drinks if it meant she could spill her problems like an overflowing cup.

So, dived from her seat did Hitoka, startling half her classmates and her teacher as she hastily stuffed her books and pencil case into her backpack and walked as quickly as she could out of the door and up the hall towards the stairs. She bolted up two flights to the third year's level, catching sight of Kiyoko as she wandered out of her own class.

They collected a reluctant Kōshi from the distrustful watch of Daichi; the latter only relenting as Hitoka promised it was time for her to show her mentors the results of her confidence lessons in public, and that they'd been planning (and putting off) this outing for an age. It wasn't a complete lie, and well, Daichi seemed appeased.

The trio didn't quite make it to the café Kiyoko had intended to show them, instead hopping on the closest bus and riding it into the better part of town – the same area Hitoka had shopped in not too long ago. She took the initiative, leading Kiyoko and Kōshi to the café where Ushijima had spilt coffee over her arm. They place served great food, welcomed everyone inside, and it was _clean_ ; what more could you ask for?

(Someone not spilling coffee on her again, Hitoka supposed.)

"I've-"

"We've-"

"N-no, go- go ahead," Hitoka instead to Kiyoko.

The third year took a hesitant sip from her latte – generously bought by Hitoka. She glanced briefly at Kōshi, but the teen was busy chasing the straw in his tall milkshake glass as it evaded his mouth.

Sighing, Kiyoko said, "We've got a bit of a problem."

Hitoka gulped. That didn't sound promising.

"Sawamura-San is planning to stage an intervention," Kiyoko continued. "He's paranoid that someone – namely Ushijima – is going to turn up to our practices again. He's certain that people are only turning up and paying attention to harass you."

 _I mean_ , Hitoka thought, _he's not entirely wrong._

Ushijima and his team had been rather off-putting with their staring the other day, and Hitoka had never been certain if Oikawa and Iwaizumi had been playing around or genuinely sincere with their perusal of her. The second date had seemed more like a goading attempt than a chance at wooing Karasuno's manager in training.

Noticing how the zipper on her bag and half of her books were in disarray, Hitoka made an attempt to sort through them. She ended up tipping most of her books – including _Twelfth Night_ – across the tabletop.

"I was going to say I ha-have a problem too," Hitoka admitted, making no attempt to clear up the mess she had made with her things. Showing Kiyoko her phone was a lot easier than trying to explain her predicament, and that was precisely what Hitoka did after sifting through the haphazard pile she'd created.

"I don't really see what you're worrying about though," Kiyoko folded her hands across her lap, leaning back from the table. "It appears that Bokuto-San is just being friendly."

"But what if he's not?" Hitoka wailed, missing how Kōshi had started to smack his forehead against the table top in frustration (they'd gone around in circles in this conversation for the past half an hour…) Kiyoko did not, however, and she hissed at her fellow third year to stop that instant.

Kōshi rubbed at the sore spot on his forehead. "Sorry about that. Had a bit of brain freeze. But Kiyoko is right; I don't think you've got a lot to worry about there." He spied something – someone – passing their window seat and froze. "Rather… you should be worried about what's _going_ to happen-"

The bell beside the entrance of the café, signalling the arrival of a new customer, trilled as the door opened. Welcoming calls resounded from behind the counter and in the kitchens. Soft, sticky footsteps – the kind only made by rubber soles on a smooth unyielding surface – came closer to the trio's table.

"Yachi-San."

"Ushi-Ushijima-San?"

Kiyoko cleared her throat delicately. "Would you like another drink, Kōshi-San?"

"Oh, um, yes." Kōshi stood awkwardly, thighs bumping against the edge of the table and rocking all of the glasses on it precariously. "I think I'll go with you to the register."

Hitoka watched them scuttle away, her panic mounting. She chanced a look at Ushijima and shrank back in her seat when she found him staring intensely back.

"I had not hoped to find you in here again," he said, meaning the café.

"We… it was… we hadn't planned to be here, ruh-really."

Silence. Ushijima's eyes raked over the table, fixing on Hitoka's books. He took what – to Hitoka's eyes and ears – sounded like a deep breath. Then, he spoke. Voice deep and burbling along with the iambic pentameter's flow.

"I could not stay behind you. My desire, more sharp than filèd steel, did spur me forth; and not all love to see you, though so much as might have drawn one to a longer voyage, but jealousy what might befall your travel, being skill-less in these parts, which to a stranger, unguided and unfriended, often prove rough and unhospitable. My willing love, the rather by these arguments of fear. Set forth in your pursuit." **[1]**

Hitoka was dumbstruck by Wakatoshi's recital, as word perfect as it was, because it was one passage she had only just reached in the play. It was one, if she had understood it correctly, meant more to the character Antonio than it did to the recipient of the speech – Sebastian. One that spoke of love, the likes of Helena's dogged pursuit of Demetrius through the forest of Arden could compare.

Kiyoko and Kōshi took that opportune moment to return, sliding into the booth. Kōshi slurped at his refilled milkshake judgingly. Ushijima cleared his throat, backing away from the table.

"Make me a willow cabin," Hitoka blurted. "–at your gate and call upon my soul within the house." **[2]**

It was at that point that Hitoka discovered that a smiling Wakatoshi Ushijima could cure all ailments, put an end to war, and unite nations peacefully. She raised a hand to heart, unknowingly.

Still smiling, Wakatoshi nodded to Hitoka. "Madam, I will." **[3]**

* * *

 **[1]** Shakespeare, William, _Twelfth Night_ (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008), (3.3.4-13), p.166-7

 **[2]** (1.5.157-8), p.116

 **[3]** (4.1.63), p.191


	27. Lush

**Heartbreaker? _Pfffsh..._**

* * *

 _Lush_

* * *

"Fill me in here," Kōshi muttered, milkshake glass hung loosely in his hand's grip and held aloft from the table. Not taking his eyes off of Ushijima, who, sat next to Hitoka at their booth in the café, was effectively trapping the small blonde by the window. Kōshi stuck his tongue out to feel about for his straw and missing drastically – still maintaining eye contact with Ushijima.

Kiyoko swatted at his arm, mainly because the Vice Captain looked moronic more than anything else. Kōshi sighed and put his glass down. "I've got no idea what's just happened."

"I forget that you're not one for foreign literature," Kiyoko returned, stirring a packet of sweetener into her coffee with a long-handled metallic spoon. Kōshi – though maybe this was the residual effect of Daichi's influence – would have thought she'd take her coffee black. Black like her soul.

"Ushijima-San and Hitoka-Chan were reciting some Shakespeare," Kiyoko told him. "'Twelfth Night', right?"

 _Much more than that, honestly,_ Hitoka though dryly, though nodded in affirmation. She had folded her hands together on top of the table; weaving and interlocking her fingers to try and keep herself occupied.

Having a task to focus on, one as simple as keeping her hands moving, would help her to settle down her mind; creating pleasant shapes and steeples, creating in general, often out Hitoka into a trance like state and she needed that mentality now more than ever. Hitoka felt jittery, and uncomfortable – her exchange with Ushijima had been an off-the-cuff moment, something Hitoka didn't really partake in often unless he was caught up in someone else's moment.

"If I am not mistaken, you are Karasuno's Vice Captain?" Wakatoshi queried Kōshi.

"Got it in one, Japan," Kōshi returned, offering the Shiratorizawa Captain a lazy thumbs-up.

"Then may I ask of you permission to court Yachi-San?"

Kiyoko demurely spit the mouthful of coffee she had taken back into her cup and wiped her mouth with a nearby napkin. Hitoka had (metaphorically) stopped breathing two minutes prior.

"I, um..." Kōshi was honestly stunned. He rose one eyebrow at (worryingly) still Hitoka – the girl had totally clammed up. "I think that I'm not the one you should be asking."

Wakatoshi tilted his head. "Of course." He bowed as well as he could whilst sat down and with a table hampering the movement of his torso. "My mistake, it should be your Captain who I should speak with."

"That's not what I meant…" Kōshi mumbled, but it was too late. Ushijima was already rising from his seat.

He plucked apart Hitoka's twining fingers and took one hand in his own. "I shall see you tomorrow," he told her, pressing a simple kiss to the back of her hand.

"Daichi's going to kill us – _me_. Daichi's going to kill me," Kōshi whimpered as Ushijima vacated the café. "It was nice knowing you. Please tell my mother to bury me in my best suit – the grey tweed one specifically."

"Well Hitoka," Kiyoko slid her coffee cup away from her, completely ignoring Kōshi's meltdown. "How does it feel to have completed your training?"

"Uh…" Hitoka blinked. "Pardon?"

"I think I'm going to need a bigger wine glass," Kiyoko told the pair smugly. She pulled out her smartphone and began to peruse online for novelty glasses – the likes of which could fit a full litre of juice inside it's supple curving walls and was often the impulse purchase for those running bachelorette parties.

Kōshi looked on in horror as Kiyoko shared with him one of the potential products she'd singled out. "You've got a serious problem."

Kiyoko didn't even bother to look up from her phone as she replied. "As have you, grey-tweed-suit-San."

* * *

Contrary to what Ushijima had said, they didn't see him the next day. Or the day after that, actually.

Of course, like with everything that had happened over the last two and a half months, the world liked to play cruel tricks on Hitoka Yachi for its own amusement. So naturally, Ushijima couldn't have turned up on the two remaining rest days the Karasuno had – the only two days with which Kiyoko, Kōshi, and Hitoka might have been able to smuggle a six-foot-something giant on and off of their school grounds without the rest of the team noticing.

Kōshi and Kiyoko actually had a bet running between themselves. Kōshi was banking on Ushijima actually turning up the next day, seeing as the latter was a fairly straight-laced fellow, and Kiyoko had bet against him. While Kōshi had lost spectacularly, the bet (with each passing day that followed) eventually morphed into if Ushijima would turn up at all. Kiyoko said yes, and Kōshi no. After all, if he couldn't be punctual, could he be counted on to bag himself a girlfriend?

Cosmic law, however, dictated that Wakatoshi Ushijima would have to turn up to Karasuno's first practice in three days; right when they had fresh legs and extra energy to chase down their prey and maim it with insults, volleyball taunts, and _fists._

Hitoka wasn't sweating. She totally wasn't. Tadashi was seeing things, that was all. Was it warm in the gym or was it just her?

 _Ha hah…_ Hitoka's lip wobbled. From her view at the open doors, she could see a figure clad in white sportswear in the distance, heading straight to the gym the team were practicing in. _It's already begun._

She was tempted to slam the doors shut – odd behaviour be damned – but that wouldn't deter Ushijima forever.

Hitoka was still stunned at the fact that she'd completed her 'training', considering that – when she thought about it in more detail – she hadn't _actually done_ anything to warrant completion. In reality she was just a victim of happenstance. Bokuto's kiss had been a complete accident at first, and then an attempt at making a poor situation better. She'd been blindsided Oikawa and Iwaizumi's 'special' move, and Ushijima had…

Ushijima really didn't seem like someone to initiate physical contact at all, so the quick brush of lips against the skin on her hand had been a total surprise – and strangely arousing. (Hitoka wanted to slam her head against the wall, but it would draw too much attention…)

It had also signalled the end of her training. Hitoka couldn't believe it was over.

Did she feel changed? Not really. What _had_ changed? For one, she didn't stutter as much. She'd managed to stand next to Asahi for a full five minutes without flinching. She (vaguely) managed to keep her head cool when she found herself in boy-related scenarios. Well… boys who weren't on the Karasuno team. At this point, the guys felt like brothers to her, and Hitoka couldn't ask for a better pseudo-family unit.

(Across the gym, Tadashi missed a receive due to the sudden stabbing he felt in his chest.)

Ushijima – because it had to Ushijima, didn't it? – was drawing closer, and closer, and closer, and Hitoka was hopping from foot to foot.

"Do you need to take a comfort break, Yachi-Chan?" Asked Takeda-Sensei, present for this practice since the beginning for once, after catching up on his paperwork for the last three days offered him the opportunity to do so.

Hitoka coughed. "Please excuse me–"

She darted across the grounds to meet Ushijima, stumbling to a stop a good meter or so from his towering figure. "Ushijima-San."

"Wakatoshi," said teen insisted. "I apologise for not coming here sooner. Things have been… turbulent lately with the team. Crops need to flourish, and it had been a trying time for farmland recently."

 _What did that even mean?_ "Waka… Wakatoshi-San?"

"May I call you by your first name, Yachi-San?"

Hitoka smiled timidly; everyone else called her by name or had taken the liberty of giving her a nickname. Why should Ushijima be any different? "You may. Um… Daichi-San is busy with practice at the moment, so maybe we could take a walk around campus?"

She tried tremendously hard to insist on making him walk around campus with her, suggesting that seeing as it was hot (and Hitoka was visibly sweating) that they could grab a cold drink from one of the vending machines – though Hitoka would have to collect her coin purse from the changing rooms should they decide to do that.

Wakatoshi seemed to perk up at the word 'practice' and informed her that he would be happy to watch and wait for the group to finish, or even offer a word or two of advice after watching Karasuno play. Hitoka felt dread run it's ice-cold course through her veins.

"They're really only just begun," she wheedled, stepping after Wakatoshi as he walked onwards to the gym. From within the building Coach Ukai's whistle trilled, signalling the end of the short practice game. Hitoka wanted to growl in frustration but checked herself at the last minute.

Ushijima looked down at Hitoka quizzically. "Well," she back-tracked. "That must have been an incredibly short game."

With nothing to hold him back, Wakatoshi strode into the gym; slipping off his trainers and setting them to the side on the step. "Greetings, Karasuno."

The team stared back.

"Japan," Kōshi called good-naturedly, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. "What are – _ha ha_ – what are you doing here?"

Daichi's face was unreadable. Kōshi subtly inched away from his Captain. Maybe Kiyoko would hide him? Kiyoko would make a great meat-shield, right? No one would mess with an irate Kiyoko Shimizu.

(One glance at Kiyoko confirmed that she would be saving herself and Hitoka only from this mess, and that Kōshi would have to fend for himself.)

"My apologies for disturbing you practice," Wakatoshi said, bowing politely to Coach Ukai and Takeda-Sensei – both were a little confused as to why the Captain of their rival team, the same team Karasuno had trounced days prior, was stood in an enemy's gym. "This should only take a moment. Might I speak with Sawamura-San?"

Whispers echoed around the gym. For once, Hinata wasn't screeching; confused also, just like the Coach, Takeda-Sensei, and most of the others. Tsukishima didn't particularly care either way, you see.

Daichi wove his way through his mock-team on the court; Nishinoya, Yamaguchi and Tanaka, to be precise. Each had mistrust clearly displayed in their eyes and were ready to leap into action – they had been warned beforehand. "What seems to be the problem? Do you want to step out or-"

"Here should be fine," Ushijima stated.

Kōshi had slunk around the edges of the gym just to speak to Kiyoko. "He's actually going to do it, isn't he?"

"Get your wallet ready," Kiyoko muttered back.

"So," Daichi rubbed the back of his neck. As though this talk wasn't going to be awkward enough already with someone like Ushijima, they had the added pressure of multiple pairs of eyes watching them. "What do you want to speak with me about Ushiwaka?"

Wakatoshi let the misinterpretation of _both_ his surname and first name go, and with an elegance someone else of his size could only wish for, sank gracefully to his knees. He bowed, deeply and respectfully. "Please allow me the honour of courting Hitoka-San."

" _Shit_ ," Kōshi hissed. There went his pocket money from the last few weeks.

"Give me your wallet," Kiyoko commanded lowly.

Daichi scoffed. _"Excuse me?"_

"Please," Ushijima dipped his head lower, not rising out of his prostrate bow. "Allow me the honour of courting Yachi Hitoka."

"I heard you the first time," Daichi mumbled, eyeing a rapidly blushing Hitoka who was trying her best to hide behind a bemused Takeda-Sensei. The teacher kept patting Hitoka on the forearm reassuringly. "But why?"

Ushijima rose, and sat with his back bolt upright in order to look Daichi straight in the eyes, said; "Because she is _everything_."

Coughing, Coach Ukai stepped forwards into the heart of the madness. "As touching as this all is, I've got a practice session to run, so…"

"My apologies," said Wakatoshi, finally getting back on to his feet. Gingerly he made his way to the gym's doors, hesitating only by Hitoka for a split second. She stared numbly back at him. Thirty painstakingly silent seconds of watching Wakatoshi Ushijima lace up his trainers followed.

Finally, once the Shiratorizawa Captain was out of earshot, Coach Ukai turned to his team and said; "Okay, what the hell just happened here?"

"Yachi-Chan has an admirer, it would seem," Takeda-Sensei chirped, smiling coyly at the dithering blonde in question.

"Not on my watch," Coach Ukai growled. "Back to it," he barked, with one sharp blow on his whistle – scrambling the Karasuno players into action.

Mournfully, Kōshi dragged himself back to practice. Kiyoko was rubbing her hands together behind his back, he just knew it – probably planning what she was going to buy with his money.

 _Probably celebratory grape juice, or that wine glass she saw,_ Kōshi thought with a snort. _What a lush._


	28. Eternal

**A/N [4/8/2018] 01:06AM (GMT)** : I am so sorry for how late this is being uploaded. I've had a really shit day and no time for writing. The update later on today (10PM GTM) should be normal though.

* * *

 **Heartbreaker? _Pfffsh..._**

* * *

 _Eternal_

* * *

"Do you think he'll come back again," Kōshi whispered to Kiyoko close to the end of practice that day. Ushijima turning up had not only rendered him virtually penniless for the rest of the week, but it had shaken him in a less visible way that it had Hitoka (the girl looked clammily pale from where Kōshi was stood some distance away.)

For one, Daichi kept throwing him accusing glares whenever Kōshi chanced looking at the former.

That didn't bode well for him once Coach Ukai and Takeda-Sensei disappeared.

"It's likely," Kiyoko answered, not looking up form her notes as she wrote in her observations from today. "He may still be in the area, waiting for Sawamura-San without disturbing us."

"Please let that not be the case," Kōshi whimpered. He really hoped it wasn't the case, and would be quite happy if Wakatoshi Ushijima never showed his face around Karasuno ever again.

"Oh," Kiyoko said, snapping her note book shut. "You owe me _a lot_ of juice."

"I'll settle with you later, currently I'm trying not to let Daichi tear this team apart with his paranoia."

Kiyoko tilted her head contemplatively. "Can it be called paranoia if your suspicious are well founded – or if they turn out to be true?"

Kōshi couldn't dignify that with a mature response. Kiyoko merely rolled her eyes as the Vice Captain stuck out his tongue at her.

* * *

Thankfully for Hitoka (and Kōshi's sanity), Ushijima was nowhere to be found once the gym equipment had been packed away, Hinata and Kageyama had been torn away from further practice, the gym locked for the night, and the boys sent to change after the girls had switched into their school uniforms.

Nor was Wakatoshi Ushijima to be found in the area surrounding Karasuno High School's grounds, or the quiet streets as the group walked towards Coach Ukai's family store. He did not simply 'drop by' for nikuman like Oikawa and Iwaizumi, and Hitoka found herself itching to get home and enjoy a drama-free evening.

With a weak smile, she excused herself from the group – Kiyoko had already dragged Kōshi away on an errand, so there was really nothing – no one – stopping Hitoka form leaving.

"Ya-Chan do you want me to walk you to your stop?" Hinata asked, or well, Hitoka _thought_ he'd said that. She couldn't actually tell, because his mouth was stuffed full.

Ever since he'd roped into becoming a manager for the team, and with their practices often stretching into late evening once Hinata and Kageyama got stuck into it and everyone else called it a night, Hinata had got into the habit of walking Hitoka and his bike to her bus stop before cycling home himself.

Hitoka was fairly sure it added an unnecessary fifteen minutes onto his trek home, but whenever she protested Hinata would only wave her off. 'I hope someone will do the same for Natsu,' he'd told Hitoka one time. His little sister, he'd informed Hitoka at her blank expression. Though unnecessary in her mind, Hitoka couldn't deny she found it comforting. The remaining light in early spring and autumn began to drop suddenly – and it would often be pitch black outside once Hinata and Kageyama were done with setting, spiking, and _bickering_.

There was nothing more unsettling than walking alone in the dark as a young (attractive) high school girl. Even in such a safe rural area. More trees and ground to cover made it easier for someone to hide your body, but on the flip side, you were unlikely to get hit by a car like you would in the city. Though the probability of the latter was also fairly low; the majority of drivers Hitoka had seen in Tokyo (when on a trip with her mother) had been courteous and very considerate to pedestrians.

"I should be okay," Hitoka told him, though inside she felt shaky and a little queasy. The prospect of wandering alone was unnerving, but she really didn't want to spend further time here. She wanted to go home, and to be able to relax, and cry, or speak with her mother about all of the confusing emotions she was feeling at the moment.

And if it couldn't get any worse, Bokuto hadn't stopped texting her. Nothing to get her hopes up, just like Kiyoko had predicted. But just benign enough to pinch at Hitoka's heart. They were simple messages; 'HOW WAS YOUR DAY?', 'AKAASHI IS MAD AT ME', and 'SAY HI TO HINATA FOR ME!'. She should be better than this – than being reduced to her heart lurching into her mouth whenever her phone vibrated.

This whole target thing was a mess, but at least it was over.

(It was over. So, didn't that mean that Hitoka's problems would just magic themselves away?)

It was at that point that Hitoka realised she'd been spaced out for a solid thirty seconds, clutching at the hem of her school blazer while Daichi said something to her (which she'd missed, _again_.)

"Is that okay with you, Yachi-Chan?" Daichi dropped a hand on her shoulder, and she jolted.

"Huh?"

"Is it okay if I walk you to your bus stop?" Daichi reiterated. "It would put my mind at ease – I'll wait with you until it arrives, if you'd like."

Hitoka really wanted to say, 'No thank you', but a slight glint in Daichi's eye made her refrain from doing so. Instead, she bobbed her head in affirmation and fiddled with he straps of her back pack.

"Great," Daichi told her. He reached into the pocket of his trousers, pulling out a slim leather wallet and withdrawing a handful of notes. "This should be enough to pay off our tab this week," he told Coach Ukai (who had lit his seventh consecutive cigarette since Karasuno had turned up to eat his store out of sellable products) and placed the money onto the counter.

"Shall we go?" Daichi asked, and Hitoka nodded once more.

The pair walked in silence – not unlike the time they had ventured to buy the team ice creams. It was companionable, if a little strained; though Hitoka was certain the latter was due to her own inability to hold a civil conversation at the moment. It was possible that Daichi was partly responsible for the atmosphere between them, or he was picking up on her discomfort too.

"Ushiwaka turning up at practice today was a surprise," Daichi started, eying Hitoka from the corner of his eye. Hitoka's shoulders scrunched, like a piece of elastic snapping back after being stretched out for too long. She hunched in on herself tensely.

Daichi coughed. "Did he mean what he said?"

"Why… why wouldn't he?" Hitoka was genuinely curious. Daichi had got her thinking; was all of this an elaborate set up? Would she wake in her bed nearly three months prior to today's date and find her targets and Kiyoko's Kami-damned lessons had all been an elaborate fever dream? Or had she really had the (burgeoning and wavering) nerve to swindle kisses from elite high school volleyball players?

"I mean, _uh_ -" Daichi back-peddled, obviously thinking he'd offended the younger of Karasuno's two managers. "You're lovely, and I can see – but, but _Ushijima_ of all people? It was a surprise. Most of our team has speculated on whether he actually _has_ feelings."

Hitoka coughed wetly, feeling the beginning of tears starting to form at the corners of her eyes. "We bon… bonded over Shakespeare and, um, I guess that's it."

Daichi's footsteps seemed to scream to a halt in the middle of the path with how quiet the surrounding area was. They were close to Hitoka's bus stop now, and it wasn't in the well-populated area of town. The perks of attending a rural school, she supposed, but it was better than the train fares to Sendai every day. "You're unsure."

"Wha-"

"You're unsure about dating- about, what did he call it again? _Courting_! You're unsure about him 'courting' you, aren't you?" Daichi interrogated.

"I'm not – _I_ ," Hitoka tried to protest, but the more she thought about it, the further unstuck her feelings – and her resolve – became. They walked a little farther, settling onto the bench inside the open-fronted hut that served as a makeshift shelter for Hitoka's bus stop.

A part of her, the foolish, romantic, sentimental girl that she could have been if she weren't so shy – which had only been indulged further by Kiyoko's ministrations and had slowly and silently developed an ego with each passing target – had been captured in the whirlwind Wakatoshi Ushijima had created the day before; just as she had been swept up into Tōru's games and Bokuto's energy.

For all of the giddy rush of endorphins and hormones, Hitoka knew deep down that she shouldn't accept Ushijima's feelings, even if Shiratorizawa's Captain gained Daichi's approval. (And why Daichi's approval? Why not Coach Ukai, or – heaven forbid – her mother?)

Accepting felt wrong purely because without Kiyoko's interference it would be unlikely Wakatoshi Ushijima and Hitoka Yachi would have ever crossed paths. It made Hitoka feel selfish. At Karasuno and Shiratorizawa's match, yes, both would have been present and may have met somehow, but without Hitoka ever making it onto the courtside in Karasuno's time of need or actually being introduced to Ushijima afterwards by Daichi or Kōshi, she never would have talked to the guy. Let alone have spouted Shakespeare back at him.

But the way he _looked_ at her.

 _Oh_ , did it make Hitoka feel _special_. She wasn't going to lie; his smile was forever going to be burnt into her mind as one of the most singular things she had ever witnessed. She would happily say yes to whatever he had to offer her solely for a subtle upwards tilt of his lips and faint creases appearing around his eyes.

Though would that be enough?

Happiness and feelings could blossom with time, even past those which Wakatoshi Ushijima inspired in Hitoka already. What she felt was far different between her and her other targets; Bokuto had been like an explosion, or like being trapped inside a hurricane's confines. Tōru, like a river that couldn't be tamed – one could only ride along the rapids or find themselves bashed against the rocks and drowned. Ushijima's feelings were organic, and slow to form. They were, Hitoka had a feeling, going to be eternal – and damn near hard to crush.

Hitoka worried her lower lip between her teeth, feeling Daichi's eyes on her once more. He was, as he had said, waiting with her until her bus arrived.

"I'm not un… unsure," Hitoka said softly. "I'm confused. I don't – I don't understand why _me_ of all people, or what's been happen-" here her breath hitched, "-happening recently. B-but I…"

"You?"

"I think I want…" Hitoka really wasn't sure what she wanted, if she was being honest. Why did becoming a volleyball club manager have to be so confusing?


	29. Heartbreaker? Pfffsh

**Heartbreaker? _Pfffsh..._**

* * *

 _Heartbreaker? Pfffsh…_

* * *

"'You want'…?" Daichi uttered, trying to provoke Hitoka into following up his question. The blonde had lapsed into silence, her eyes glazed; she was thinking then.

Daichi tapped her arm, and she nearly fell off the bench they both shared in surprise. "You want?" He asked once more, hoping she would answer him that time.

"I want to be more confident. I want… want to feel loved, or ad… yes, admired," Hitoka admitted softly.

Daichi's eyes widened in surprise. Slowly, in the same manner one would move around a skittish animal, he looped a single arm across Hitoka's shoulders. "Silly, you already are. So many people admire you just for joining our club – and we all love and support our members."

"It's not the same," Hitoka told him, not shrinking into herself even as Daichi's fatherly arm tightened around her in concern.

"Why not?"

"Because it…" Hitoka really didn't want to drop Kiyoko in it. Or Kōshi. She'd have to think on her feet now and worry about keeping up the lie afterwards. "Kiyoko-San and Kōshi-San have been so helpful, and we were t-talking about… about bravery!"

"Oh?" Daichi's eyebrows rose, but Hitoka, staring at the road adjacent to her bus stop, didn't notice.

She nodded, Daichi felt the movement – felt the rustle of her hair against his gakuran jacket. "Kōshi-San was telling me that bravery came in all shapes and sizes, and con-confidence. Um, he, um, he said that confessions were brave, despite what people might think it takes a cot- a lot of confidence to admit your feelings."

Daichi secretly thought that Hitoka was plenty brave, the decrease in how she stuttered now and the reduced time she quivered around the team was testament to that. (Asahi was relieved, he'd believed for a while now that the girl was genuinely terrified of him.) Still, Daichi didn't like how this conversation was turning out from the breadcrumb trail of information Hitoka was laying for him.

"So, did you decided that confessing to people was a better way to get confident?" He pressed, anger beginning to lace through his tone.

It would explain Iwaizumi and Oikawa's appearances, and Ushijima confessing his love of all things this afternoon. Come to think about it, Bokuto had been acting strange around Yachi back at the training camp in Tokyo too.

Something ugly curled in Daichi's gut. Just how many people had Hitoka toyed with? Somehow, he couldn't quite imagine Hitoka Yachi as a heartbreaker, but stranger things had happened. (Karasuno were going to the Nationals…)

"Did you purposefully go after people-"

"No!" Hitoka bellowed, springing away from under his arm. Daichi blinked, watching as the girl flushed in shame and the volume of her shout. "… I couldn't… I couldn't do it. Do that. Ever."

"What do you mean?"

"…" Daichi strained his ears to hear, gesturing for her to say what she had once more. "I'm not confident enough to do something like th- _that_. And I would never; it hurts too much."

('It hurts too much'? Daichi was going to _lynch_ whoever had hurt Karasuno's darling.)

Hitoka wanted to explain; she wanted to say that she was going to help their team by sabotaging others, wanted to demonstrate what she had been learning under Kiyoko's tutelage had been mainly harmless although it had spectacularly backfired on Hitoka herself. She could not.

So she lied through her teeth and hoped Daichi would take her story for the truth.

"I don't know what happened, or why people turn up," she lowered her head despondently. "I feel like… like I don't deserve it either."

"Never say that," Daichi told her forcefully, grasping her shoulders with both palms. Hitoka felt the heat from his skin seeping through her clothes, and the warmth was reassuring. "You're one of _ours_ – of course you're worth something. We were all-" (correction: Daichi was paranoid) "-worried that something worse was going on."

Hitoka shook her head. For all his games, Tōru had been caring, and gentle. Wakatoshi would probably never let her out of his sight for harm to befall her. The only one Hitoka would have had to worry about in any way, shape, or form, would have been Kōtarō. Though only because in his excitement Fukurōdani's Captain was likely to injure himself (or her) again.

"Thank you," Hitoka replied in a small voice, feeling the first of her tears slip down her face. She chewed on her lip, feeling the sweet coating of her lipstick on her tongue. It served as a reminder of all she had come through, and as a pleasant distraction from how her stomach was churning from the lies.

 _More and more lies_ , she thought sadly. She wished she could spill the truth but knew she couldn't. Kiyoko had made it clear that tradition was tradition – would Hitoka's replacement feel such turmoil too? Hitoka hoped not. She had two years now to make sure another potential Karasuno manager would not be in this position although Hitoka would honour the conditions passed down through the years like a ceremonial flame.

"Hey, why are you so upset?" Daichi questioned, a placid smile stretching across his face. "Japan looked like he was head over heels. Now forgive me if I'm wrong – and I'm not – if you don't think you deserve someone like that in your life, then who is right for you?"

Hitoka didn't know. Ushijima was too good to be true. Emotionally stunted, but reliant. Caring in his own way.

Sceptically, Daichi inquired, "If he comes back again, should I give him my permission?"

"I'd like that," Hitoka told him truthfully.

* * *

When Hitoka returned home that evening, it was to an empty apartment. Her mother must have been working late tonight.

She tiredly plodded to her bedroom, dumping her school bag and blazer onto her bed and turning to her desk draws. From inside, she pulled out the three polaroids Kiyoko had given her oh-so long ago, cupping them in her palms. They had been untouched; she didn't have the heart to deface them, or to write across the plain white backs like Kiyoko had suggested.

Getting to know her targets, Hitoka felt that crossing them off like numbers on a bingo card was a little impersonal. But she was free from that obligation now, and nothing stopped her from simply throwing away her photos into the trash where anyone could find them (and misinterpret and silently judge her stalkerish tendencies) – though that seemed like the poorer option.

Hitoka knew what she needed to do.

She filled a large mixing bowl full of cold tap water and scoured the cupboards for the packet of matches Madoka used to light scented candles in the bathroom when it was 'pamper night'. Stuffing the pictures in the hem of her skirt – image facing her ribs, Hitoka lugged the matches and the bowl of water up three flights of stairs to the rooftop. It was open to everyone living in that apartment block, but at this time of night would be deserted. Still, Hitoka took the stairs instead of the lift just in case someone caught her doing something odd and reported back to her mother.

Once there, she set the bowl down in the middle of the roof. She pulled the polaroids from where she'd stashed them, knelt on the floor – with two of the pictures trapped safely under one knee lest they float away in the breeze – grasped the corner of Kōtarō Bokuto's picture, and struck a match.

It burnt fairly quickly, and as soon as the tiny flames licked the lacquered paper by Hitoka's fingers, she submerged it in the bowl of water and watched the embers die. Then, she carelessly let the scrap piece of corner be whipped away by the wind – littering rules be damned. She didn't want those pictures near her anymore. It was time to set them free and continue with her life.

She did the same of Tōru Oikawa and Wakatoshi Ushijima's images, but with the latter didn't move her hand away from the flames in time and gained a blister for her troubles.

It was like Daichi had said, she deserved someone like that in her life. But Hitoka was going to do it on her own terms now – not because she had to.

She tipped the remaining water down a nearby storm drain, setting it beside her on the rooftop as she knelt once more – the rooftop's ground pressing into her knees – and simply _breathed_ ; taking in the lights as the dusky twilight skyline twinkled.

It was over now, so why did she feel jittery in her own skin? Like she was about to burst with the energy roiling through her body? Hitoka's hands shook faintly, and she sniffed as the cold evening air lapped at her bare arms.

"Hitoka?" Her mother called, and said girl scrabbled to hide the packet of matches under her skirt.

"Okaa-San?" Hitoka whirled around.

Madoka stepped out from the entrance to the roof. "What are you doing up here? _Is that my best baking bowl?"_

"There- there was a bug!" Hitoka yelped.

Madoka frowned. "A bug?"

Hitoka nodded eagerly. "I think it got trapped in my bag on the way home – i-it was a beetle, a big beetle, and um, I just grabbed the nearest th-thing…"

"Okay…" Madoka returned sceptically but did not inquire further. Hitoka was prone to strange behaviours at times, and Madoka was not exactly the most hands-on parent out there (not to say she was negligent, she just knew she could trust her daughter and excused a few _oddities_.) "Are you coming down? I brought dinner back with me."

That's why her mother had been late home tonight then; she'd stopped for takeout. Hitoka was grateful, it had granted her twenty minutes or so to discard of the evidence of the past two or so months.

"Mm, I'll just go and get changed – and wash my hands," Hitoka told her, not moving out of her kneeling position.

Madoka glanced pointedly at her daughter's still form. "Well I'm going down _now_." Hitoka told her to go on ahead with a simple white lie ('My legs have fallen asleep, I'll be down in a minute, promise!') falling from her lips.

( _There's so many lies today,_ she thought sadly.)

Crisis averted momentarily, Hitoka sighed. She'd have to hide the matches in her room for a bit before she could sneak the matches back into the cupboard where she'd found them. The bowl could be deposited in the sink for now. Hitoka jammed the box into her bra, hoping that the excess padding would mask the harsh lines of the rectangular box and that her footsteps would be enough to disguise the rattling of the matches inside.

It was times like these when she wished she had longer hair, but long hair was a pain.

Safely back in her room, Hitoka stashed the box of matches into her desk draw. Her mother hadn't found the polaroids, so why would she go looking into the drawers for a box of matches? They should be safe in there for now.

Hitoka didn't feel satisfied though with just burning away the evidence though; she'd yet to stop shaking – and it wasn't from the cold. There were reminders of her targets everywhere – and not just in her head. Coach Ukai's store, disposable ice-packs, the gym where Karasuno practiced, café's (which were forever ruined for her), and drinking grape juice. Even her phone…

Her _phone_.

Hitoka dug the device – a flip-phone model which had seen better days – out of her backpack. The phone charms she'd strung to it jangled tauntingly. Hitoka swallowed, popped the phone open and copied out the numbers she didn't know by heart out with pen and paper, hiding the latter in her draw once she was done. Her mother's details she knew, and several family members. But others, Kiyoko, Kōshi, Hinata, Hitoka did not know so well. She hesitated over Bokuto's contact information.

She did not copy it down.

Then, hoping this would work and in an uncharacteristic display of destruction, she set the open phone down on the floor and stomped on it. It split in two around the hinges; the screen fading to black in betrayal.

"Hitoka-" her mother swung open her bedroom door, halting in shock at what she saw: Hitoka, sweating, her sock-clad foot still pressed firmly against her flip phone while Hitoka looked in in dismay at the dimmed screen. "It's one thing after another with you today, isn't it?"

"I think…" Hitoka slowly moved her foot away, flinching as the device's remains got caught to her sock for a split second, then thudded to the carpet in two separate pieces and a spray of broken plastic shards. "I think I might need a new phone."

Madoka simply gave her daughter a _look_. One that seemed to say, 'You think?'

* * *

 **A/N [4/8/2018] 21:38 PM (GMT) :  
** Again, I can't apologise more for the late upload time yesterday (this morning?). I had a really bad day. But today was better.

Shout out to **_thedarkesthorcrux_ **for staying up and reading Chapter 28 at 4am. As a fellow (and tired) Brit, I feel for ya. But hey, what else can you do if you can't sleep because your room is too hot to fall asleep in? Hopefully, you're more rested today?

Can you believe it, there's one Chapter left for me to write and publish?

I'll see you all around the same time tomorrow.


	30. Madam I Will

**Heartbreaker? _Pfffsh..._**

* * *

 _Madam I Will_

* * *

Hitoka was getting rid of most of her bad memories today it would seem, but she knew a few would have had to sneak through the cracks.

It was too late for Hitoka and her mother to take an impromptu shopping trip once they'd finished dinner. The trains ran well into the night, but shops and larger precincts were usually closed by seven in the evening. If they factored in travel time, mother and daughter would make it to Sendai (which, at this point, was the only busy place to get your major shopping done) too late.

So Madoka, in a rare fit of mischief, suggested they phone the school in the morning to let them know Hitoka would be late.

An unavoidable dentist appointment over in Sendai, Madoka told the receptionist down the phone sympathetically the next morning; the fabricated story slipping from rouge red lipstick-coated lips like silk sliding over skin. Hitoka shouldn't have been impressed with her mother's silvered tongue, but she was. That skill would have been useful over the last few days – Hitoka still didn't believe that Daichi had bought her story about bravery and confidence and _confessions_ of all things, and she certainly didn't believe he was going to give Wakatoshi a free pass when he came back.

( _If he came back,_ her treacherous mind whispered.)

Surprisingly, the receptionist at the other end of the phone let Madoka's bogus story slide, and with Hitoka's pristine track record, they didn't ask for written proof to confirm her absence. This trick wouldn't work a second time, Hitoka was sure, but then again it was unlikely Madoka would ever suggest the pair of them try doing something like this ever again.

It felt positively naughty, sneaking around the bustling Sendai shopping malls with her mother when she was supposed to be in school learning about quadratics and English grammar and how to balance equations. They spent a good hour hopping from store to store, Madoka pulling her daughter into boutiques like a giddy teenager. Hitoka just felt really uncomfortable – whenever someone eyed her uniform suspiciously or asked why she wasn't in school already, her mother would interject and would tell them that they were killing time before her dentist appointment having taken too early a train. (Her narrowed-eyed gaze also suggested they mind their own business, too.)

After stopping for a quick snack (in a café, which made Hitoka jittery from the get-go), the mother and daughter duo finally sought out the nearest phone store. A salesman jumped on them as soon as they walked through the door, guiding them through the latest models; multiple choices that made Hitoka dizzy with their specifications, and their megapixel cameras, and tariffs. Hitoka wouldn't have objected if her mother would only buy her a replacement and not a new phone – and Hitoka had offered up all of her savings to lower the cost of her mother buying a brand-new device, but Madoka had vehemently refused.

Madoka shook her head; she directed the salesmen to show them the best they had to offer for someone Hitoka's age.

The metal casing was a rosy, coppery colour, and sleek. The phone was bigger than Hitoka's hand, and fretted about how she would hold it; about the width of a thin notebook, when compared in side, but large and cumbersome. Thinner than Hitoka's little finger, yet as wide and far longer than her palm.

Hitoka looked at her mother with a thinly veiled look of panic evident on her face. It didn't have a _lid_ – or _buttons_ she could type with!

How would she use something like this?!

"Okaa-San, are you sure-"

"You deserve a treat," Madoka insisted. "You've done so well keeping up with your studies and helping out those boys." (She meant how Hitoka had given Kageyama and Hinata a hand with their studies, though Hitoka's mother knew full well about how Karasuno were going to the Nationals.)

"But," Hitoka protested, "It's really – really _expensive_."

Her mother stared her down. "Don't worry about it."

Forty minutes or so later, after explaining to the eager salesman that Hitoka had never used a touchscreen phone before, and with Madoka paying extra for insurance and accidental damage cover when the man learnt of what had befallen Hitoka's previous phone, Hitoka had a general idea how her new mobile worked.

The salesmen had dismantled the remains of her old phone, asking her if she needed the information inside on her sim card (contacts, old messages and the like) transferred over or not. Hitoka told him she had the important ones written down at home, and that the others she could acquire again easily.

But there was Bokuto's number…

 _No_. Hitoka steeled herself. She was moving onwards now, and it was time to leave the deafening caps lock, and Tōru's rambling, emoticon-decorated texts and picture messages behind. The salesmen, after Hitoka had detached all of her old phone charms, carried the remains of her flip phone away to be disposed of.

With everything bought and Madoka's bank account significantly lighter, it was time for them to return home, drop off their shopping bags, and for Hitoka to make her way into school. Before they were due to catch their return train, something caught Hitoka's eye.

"What is it?" Madoka called as Hitoka drew her attention to a small rotating stand of cute plushie phone charms on display outside of a cutesy store. Teddies and other stuffed animals of various sizes could be seen inside, as well as corresponding merchandise to each character. A bored looking young woman stood behind the counter, watching Hitoka's every move through the crowded window display.

"It's… it's a baby bird," Hitoka told her, grabbing hold of the black plush charm and rooting for her coin purse inside her back pack.

Hitoka was getting rid of most of her bad memories today it would seem, but she knew a few would have had to sneak through the cracks.

* * *

Walking in to school four hours late was strange. Hitoka had arrived in the middle of Karasuno's lunchtime break and made a beeline for the gym.

"Ya-Chan! Where were you this morning?" Hinata screeched, and with his announcement drew Daichi, Kiyoko, and Kōshi's attention. "We were worrying about 'ya!"

"Yachi-Chan, are you okay?" Daichi huddled close to Hitoka, his tone coddling. "We worried when we couldn't get hold of you."

"Oh, um, I had the – the dentist," Hitoka told them, and Daichi sagged in relief. "My phone broke last night too, so I needed to get a new one while I was out. It… It took a while." (All in all, Hitoka estimated they spent over an hour being badgered by the salesman.)

"Right, _right_ …" Daichi perked up slightly then. "Right guys, ready for a light practice?"

With the boys drawn into improving their serves and simple receives – nothing too fancy, it was lunchtime after all – Hitoka sidled over to Kiyoko, who was distracted by her detailed notes.

"Sawamura-San was going spare when Hinata-Kun told him you hadn't walked to school with him that morning," Kiyoko explained as Hitoka sat down beside her; pulling a hastily bought curry bun she'd bought from the train station on her trip back from Sendai and a carton of grape juice she'd purchased out of habit. She offered the latter to Kiyoko, who accepted it and took a quick sip before she continued speaking. "He thought he might have said something to upset you after practice yesterday?"

"O-oh… We, um, had a talk about confidence."

"I see."

Hitoka bit her lip. "I didn't tell him."

"Hmm?" Kiyoko was distracted by her writing.

"I didn't tell him about the real meaning behind the lessons."

Kiyoko snapped her notebook shut. "I should hope not, though it wouldn't be the end of the world if you had. Sawamura-San is trusting – _too_ _trusting_ – but he's also very switched on to proceedings happening under his nose. Should you have found it prudent to tell him about your… _lessons_ then I would have understood. Kōshi-San hates keeping secrets from him too."

"I don't think Kōshi-San is ready to share his secret yet though," Hitoka told the third year, watching the aforementioned silver-haired teen as he stood supportively by Daichi. With the way things were going, Kōshi would take his feelings for Daichi Sawamura to the grave.

"And it is killing him inside. But what about you?" Kiyoko inquired shrewdly. "What are your plans now, Hitoka-Chan?"

Hitoka did not know it, but Kiyoko's mind had drifted to her own targets. What were they doing now? Probably preparing to graduate from University at this point, or in full-time employment. How was Tetsu? Did he ever forgive after finding out she was only doing what she had to do?

"I– I burned the pictures," Hitoka told Kiyoko lowly. "Ushijima-San's blistered my hand."

That sounded very much like an omen Hitoka should have heeded too, but she had never been one for superstition. Madoka hadn't raised her daughter that way. Sure, they travelled to the temples at New Years, but Madoka wasn't one for religion. She was too busy for introspection and close encounters of the spiritual kind. Hitoka was the same.

"And then your phone broke?" Kiyoko questioned knowingly. Hitoka ducked her head in shame.

"I want to – to _move on_ ," she told the elder manager. "I want to be able t-to say yes without regrets and – and I wah-want to, um, say yes."

"Then do it," Kiyoko told her, finality in her tone. She was glad Hitoka had the confidence she needed to make that decision for herself; the girl had come a long way from where she had started, frightened and afraid to speak out.

The five-minute warning bell rang, signalling that all students should hurry back to their classrooms in preparation for the afternoon classes to begin.

Kiyoko rose, taking the juice carton with her as she wandered off to class. "See you later on a practice?" She called over her shoulder.

Hitoka nodded.

* * *

The second time Wakatoshi Ushijima's figure was spotted on the distant horizon, Hitoka did not panic. A fine layer of excitement thrummed under her skin in anticipation. She was ready, she was happy.

She smiled widely at him as he ducked his head under the doorway; shoes slipped off and facing out towards the grounds neatly on the second step up into their gym. Wakatoshi stood beside her, watching Karasuno's practice drills play out.

They were perfectly content to stay like that forever, side by side, scant centimetres apart. Occasionally their limbs would brush against one another's, and Hitoka would flush, but she wouldn't pull away.

The shrill call of Coach Ukai's silver whistle, brining a halt to practice, pulled Hitoka into reality and out of her rosy feelings. The Karasuno boys waited with baited breath as Wakatoshi Ushijima approached Daichi Sawamura once more. This time, he did not collapse gently into a seiza. Instead, he bowed, torso folding at an abrupt forty-five degrees. Respectful, but nowhere near as submissive as a full ninety-degree bend.

"Please allow me the honour to court Hitoka Yachi."

Daichi made his contemplation of the request drawn out, and Hitoka held her breath. Daichi had said he would honour her wishes, but there was always the option – the doubt gnawing away at Hitoka inside – that he would not. "I give you my consent."

Ushijima, though his body was as tense and controlled as always, seemed to lighten in relief. Hitoka gasped for breath; Daichi had listened to her. With a breath-taking smile that disappeared soon after appearing on Wakatoshi's face (rendering half of the Karasuno team useless in awe and sublime shock), Ushijima approached her. Hitoka drew herself up to her full height, smiling gently at him in greeting.

"Hitoka- may I call you Hitoka?" She nodded. Wakatoshi bowed deeply. "Go out with me, please?"

Coming from Ushijima, that sounded almost informal.

He was a young man of few words. He kept his cards flush against his chest, his heart never displayed on his sleeve, and he could blindside her without a moment's notice – but Hitoka was happy. It would take a lot of work, being in a relationship, and time. Hitoka didn't really have time to spare at the moment, but she'd make it work.

She wanted to make it work.

Hitoka smiled once more tilting her head up painfully so that she could look at Wakatoshi without him having to stoop to her level. She'd have a crick in her neck the next day, but it was worth it.

She took a deep breath, smile still wide and her cry-baby (happy) tears – which, in years to come when Kiyoko had moved on to university, Hitoka was training up her own protégé, and Kōshi was still dithering about telling Daichi how he felt, would still fall thick and fast down Hitoka's cheeks – gathered in her eyes.

"Madam I will."

* * *

 **A/N [5/8/2018] :**

So, after two months of crying, late nights, and frequent deadlines, I can say that this story is officially done.

It's really lovely to wake up and find a load of supportive comments, or that people are following/favouriting this story – even reblogging the announcement post I'd made for 'Heartbreaker? _Pfffsh…'_ on Tumblr! I kind of feel like I don't deserve the support at all, because back in June, I'd finally caught up on the third series, had a week of contemplation, raced through all the rare pair fics online, sat up until one AM to blitz out thirty chapter titles, and went from there.

I don't think this is the best work I've ever/will ever write, but it's been really fun and challenging. I'm always contemplating NaNoWriMo, and in total I have written this story over four week – with intermittent breaks – but even then I've gone stir crazy with this project. How do people stand it for a month of solid writing?!

Heck, this story was only going to be 30,000 words long (just to fill a severe lack of satisfying rare pair fics, I thought), and look how that turned out. I ended up doubling the expected final word count after the first week because I _knew_ I needed to keep writing this longer story. I have to say, once you pass 35,000 words it's too late for one to have any regrets, and you just have to embrace the madness. Maybe someday (don't count on it) I'll go back in an edit this story. Tweak it a little or something. Don't hold your breath.

Still, thank you all for sharing this writing experience with me. I hope it inspires you to go out there and hash out your own stories.

-Yuilhan

* * *

 **Musical Inspiration**

* * *

"Cinderella, Op.87, Act 3: No.50, Amoroso (Adante dolcissimo)" – Sergei Prokofiev (performed by the London Symphony Orchestra), 'Prokofiev: Cinderella'

"Time to Pretend" – MGMT, 'Oracular Spectacular'

"LIPSTICK" – Orange Caramel, 'LIPSTICK'

"Girlfriend" – Christine and the Queens feat. Dam-Funk, 'Girlfriend'

"Never Fall in Love Again" – Desired feat. ConsciousThoughts, 'Lovestory'

"Hikariare" – BURNOUT SYNDROMES, 'Lemon'

"Dumb Dumb" – Red Velvet, 'The Red – The 1st Album'

"Her" – Eery, 'Her'

"Easy Money" – Johnny Marr, 'Playland'

"Danny Don't You Know" – Ninja Sex Party, 'Danny Don't You Know – EP'

"Horsey" – Macross 82-99 feat. Sarah Bonito, 'Idols, Sakura'

"Harlem" – New Politics, 'A Bad Girl In Harlem'

"Drawing the Line" – Royal Pirates, 'Love Toxic (Deluxe)'

"Delight Days" – BROCKBEATS, 'Calm Life'

"The No Pants Dance (feat. Ninja Sex Party) – TWRP, 'Guardians of the Zone'

"Kimi Ja Nakya Dame Mitai" – Y. Chang (English Cover from 'Gekkan Shoujo Nozaki-Kun')

"Hot Stuff" – Donna Summer, 'Bad Girls'

"Congratulations" – MGMT, 'Congratulations'

"12 Movements from Romeo and Juliet, Op. 64: 9. Morning Serenade (Transcription for 2 Pianos, by Sergei Babayan)' – Sergei Prokofiev (performed by Martha Argerich and Sergei Babayan), 'Prokofiev For Two'


	31. AN 12082018

Hi! Just a quick note to let you know that the sequel to this story, called **Notice Me, Daichi,** is now up!


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